


Time and Again (by M-n-M)

by M-n-M (mickeym)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Character Death (original characters), M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1997-07-01
Updated: 1997-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-08 17:09:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 98,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/M-n-M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair is put in charge of a major exhibit at the University, and begins having strange dreams. While he searches for answers about these dreams he discovers he and Jim have shared more than just this life, but even this life may be in danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time and Again, Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with Mercury (as M-n-M), this was originally published as a zine, in July, 1997.

**Prologue**

Spring Break, 3/21

"It's all yours, Mr. Sandburg." Dr. Hathaway said with a flourish. "Dr. Osaka had to fly back to Japan for a family emergency, and you came highly recommended to take over for her. You're now officially helming the project."

Blair sat perched on the conference table with a smile on his face. Dr. Hathaway was putting him in charge of the Cultural Rituals and Taboos Exhibit. It was an awesome responsibility and would require weeks-if not months-of work, but Blair was up to the task. He relished the challenge.

"The artifacts have been arriving for some time now, and are being stored in the basement of the exhibit hall," Dr. Hathaway continued, checking off something in his notebook.

"I'll go down there right now and take a look at what we have; get myself up to speed on what Dr. Osaka was doing," Blair replied.

"Yes, do so," Dr. Hathaway agreed. "Dr. Osaka had begun marking placement for the artifacts, and designing a rough draft exhibit layout. You'll want to go over those; as well as the all the paperwork--just to acquaint yourself. Also, even though we've received a large number of the pieces, you'll probably still be inundated with artifacts. Some will be appropriate to the exhibit and others will not. It will be up to you to decide which pieces will be in the show."

Blair nodded. He expected that. Dr. Hathaway's artifact collection had a notoriety all its own. It had taken the professor many years to establish his collection, and Sandburg knew the exhibit would draw a big crowd. He just hoped that the exhibit wouldn't be diminished by its controversy.

The professor was speaking again. "You can use the people that Dr. Osaka had been using, or you may want to form a small team of individuals of your own. The choice is yours. The grand opening is set for two months from now, but it will likely require all that time to set up the exhibit. All the artifacts should be in in the next week or so--the ones that have been delayed were due to red tape."

"All right, Dr. H. I have a couple of people in mind already. I'll give them a call and we'll get started." Blair hopped down to the floor.

"Good. Very good. I knew you were the perfect man for the job, Sandburg." Dr. Hathaway rubbed his hands together. "I'll be overseeing the project and if you have any questions, feel free to contact me. I leave everything in your capable hands."

"Thanks, Dr. H., for this wonderful opportunity." Blair walked with Dr. Hathaway to the door.

"No. Thank you, Mr. Sandburg. The Cultural Rituals and Taboos Exhibit is going to be a smashing success. I can feel it in my bones." The professor slapped Blair on the back and strode down the hall. Blair smiled as he saw the professor disappear down around the corner.

Blair rubbed his hands in anticipation. Finally a project he could sink his teeth into. He hadn't been this excited since he'd started the sentinel project. Of course, nothing could top meeting Jim. Blair allowed himself to be momentarily distracted. Jim. He still couldn't believe his good fortune. Their friendship had been a bonus, too. It was almost like it was written in the stars. They worked so well together that sometimes it scared Blair. He wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, though. With thoughts of Sentinels and artifacts dancing in his head, he practically skipped toward the elevator that would take him to the treasures from around the world.

Whistling, he exited the elevator. Looking around, he spotted two large wooden crates off to his left. Hefting the crowbar he'd picked up from his office on the way down, the young anthropologist approached the first crate. He popped the lid and rifled through the yellow straw. He grinned in excitement. It felt like Christmas.

Blair knew what it was as his hand closed on the hilt. His eyes widened as he hefted the broadsword out of the crate. Balancing the sword on the palms of his hands, he held it up to the light. The cold, hard iron lay heavy in his grip. He took hold of the handle in his right hand and clumsily swung it in a wide arc. It was too heavy and he nearly dropped it. Blair carefully laid the sword on the table. It was beautiful, but he didn't feel comfortable with it. He reached back into the crate and pulled out two large boxes. Setting the boxes next to the sword, Blair opened the top one first. Nestled in packing paper was an old English uniform.

'Redcoats,' Blair thought as he fingered the finely woven red material. The briefest of shudders coursed through him. 'Strange,' he thought, 'why should an old 18th century military uniform bother me?' Blair shook his head. Maybe he was misinterpreting his reaction. He was probably just cold. He returned his focus to the uniform. He eyed the once shiny buttons that marched like soldiers along the center. A uniform could convey many things--safety, protection, fear, tyranny.

Blair ran a hand through his hair and replaced the lid. The anthropologist pulled out the other box and opened it. He swallowed as he gazed down upon the second outfit. The green and white plaid contrasted sharply with the white paper. Blair reached in and removed the Scottish kilt. It was beautiful. He placed it against his hips and for a moment, imagined himself wearing it. He laughed to himself, ````thinking he wasn't even remotely Scottish. At least he didn't think so. Maybe. His father...Blair rolled his eyes and laid the kilt down on the table. He didn't know anything about his father so he couldn't really say he wasn't Scottish. His brow knitted as he discovered another item in the box. Blair reached in again and pulled out the swatch of plaid. It was a battle sash. He held it in his hands almost reverently. He was beginning to get the picture. The Scots fighting the Redcoats.

Frowning, Blair placed the two outfits side-by-side and pondered how he was going to place them in an exhibit that dealt with cultural rituals and taboos. He'd do a little research and create a tableau to place them into context. The young man shrugged. If he couldn't figure out how to fit them in the main exhibit, he'd just create a very small one. He could do it. Blair smiled as he repacked the clothing. He was definitely going to have fun with this.

The young teacher reached back into the crate. He was in seventh heaven for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

_He was floating on waves of sound; buoyed by something unseen. As if he had wings, and could fly. On some level he knew he was dreaming. Still... _

_Sounds of battle filled the air. Through eyes fogged by mist and smoke he could see men...men fighting. It was a sword fight... No, it was more than that. This was on a large scale--men all around him fighting, swords clashing against other swords; the sounds of men screaming as they were fatally wounded..._

* * *

Monday, 3/24

The normal sounds of the police station hurt his ears this morning. Blair found himself wanting to clap his hands over them, or bury his head in a pillow. His eyes ached too, as if he'd been exposed to smoke for a long period of time. He hadn't slept well last night...had had strange dreams of sword battles. It wasn't the first time, but it had been the most vivid dream so far. He shrugged and stepped from the elevator, moving on autopilot toward Jim's desk. His partner looked up at his approach--not surprising, since he'd probably heard his heartbeat several minutes ago.

"Hey, Chief." Jim frowned as he looked at Blair. "You okay?" "Yeah, I'm fine, man. Just a little tired. What's up today?" "Paperwork for a start. Forensics sent back the report from the Hoskins case. Want to get started on it for me? I need to run down to the lab for one other report." Jim stood up and walked around his desk, thoughts already focusing on the task at hand. Blair pulled out his glasses. "Sure." He slid into the chair Jim vacated. "Oh, hey, Jim?" Jim turned back toward Blair. "Yeah?" "I need to leave around lunch-time -- I have to get over to the university. Big meeting today." "Sure, Chief, but come back afterward--we've still got work to do."

* * *

Blair moved across campus on automatic, scarcely aware of where he was going. The meeting this afternoon had gone well; Dr. Hathaway could really turn on the charm when he wanted to, and now they had the Cascade Museum of Art's curator practically falling all over himself to donate some of the Egyptian artifacts. Blair smirked to himself. Mitchell Parker thought he was pretty smooth, sitting there in the conference room spouting off about the historical value of the artifacts, and their importance, and what would happen should anything happen to them... He hadn't stood a chance against Dr. Hathaway. That man's powers of persuasion were incredible. Blair felt like he was learning from a master. Unfortunately, the meeting had also run over; now, in addition to still needing to set up separate meetings with his two targeted personnel, he was about to be late for his meeting with Jim. He sighed and picked up his pace.

"Blair!"

The anthropologist turned to see a blond-haired woman running across the quad toward him.

"Sarina." Blair smiled when the woman reached him. "You're just the person I wanted to see."

"Really?" Sarina squeaked, her green eyes lighting up.

"Uh-huh," Blair tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. The sunlight caught his exposed earrings and they glinted. "I need you."

Sarina's smile grew even wider. "You need me? What can I do for you?"

"I'm putting together an exhibit for Dr. Hathaway. It's a major project and I'm going to need some serious help. You're getting your Master's in anthro with a concentration in African cultures. I could certainly use you on this project. We have several crates of African artifacts and your expertise will come in handy." Blair grinned at her, doing his own bit of 'turning on the charm'. Blair continued, "This will give you a chance to exercise what you know. Think you're up to it?"

"Oh, am I ever!" On impulse, she threw her arms around Blair in a hug.

Caught by surprise, he hugged her back. "Okay, then. We'll be having a meeting in a few days. When I can arrange it." He pulled away from Sarina and checked his watch. "I've got to track down Michael and ask him to help out, as well."

Sarina smiled, happily. "Michael Patterson? Isn't he that really tall basketball player?"

Blair nodded. "Yeah. He's helped me out on an anthro project before. He's really great to work with. You two will get along great."

"Sounds good."

"Well, I really gotta go. I'm late already. I've got to meet my roommate at work in a half hour. Doesn't look like it's gonna happen." Blair wasn't *too* concerned. Jim was used to him being late.

"Okay, Blair. Thanks for asking me to help you. I can't wait to get started."

"Great! That's the attitude I was hoping for. It'll be fun, you'll see." Blair's excitement threatened to overpower them both. "I'll give you a call later, okay?"

"I'll be waiting."

Blair smiled and nodded. With a wave of his hand, he walked away. If he had turned around, Blair would have noticed Sarina watching him. Unfortunately for Sarina, his thoughts had almost immediately veered to his next target, Michael.

Blair walked into the gym and glanced into the weight room. Michael wasn't there. Shrugging, he made his way to the basketball court where a one-on-one game was in progress. He watched Michael dribble the ball and aim at the basket from the three-point line. Blair clapped as the ball swished through the basket.

"Nothing but net!" he called as he walked over to the lanky redhead.

"Hey, Blair. How's it going?" Michael nodded to his basketball partner as the anthropologist peered up at him.

Blair noticed the nod. "Oh, hey. Don't mean to interrupt, man. This shouldn't take long."

"Give us five minutes, okay, Craig?" Michael asked and the other man nodded. Michael turned to the anthropologist. "Okay, man. What's up?"

Blair quickly explained the exhibit project and asked Michael if he'd be interested in helping out.

"Sounds great! Wouldn't miss it. Just call me and let me know when you want to start."

Blair nodded. "Hopefully we can get together in the next few days. I've got Sarina Collins helping, too. "

"Oh, yeah. I've seen her around campus. I hear she really knows her African culture stuff." Michael picked up the basketball.

"She does. That's what makes her an invaluable asset to our team."

"You sound like a coach, Blair," Michael was laughing.

Blair grinned and shrugged. "Whatever works. Listen, go on and get back to your game. I should have been on the road ten minutes ago."

Michael nodded. "I'll talk to you later. See ya."

Blair was still smiling when he unlocked the Corvair. 'Now that I have my team, I can really start planning this exhibit. There is so much I have to do.' His good mood vanished when the car refused to start. He couldn't even get the engine to turn over. Damn! Had he left the lights on again? He checked the switch. Nope...but that didn't mean that that wasn't ultimately the cause. He'd done it a couple of times in the recent past, and it had probably caught up with him. Blair sighed as he headed for the bus stop. Maybe Jim would jump him...jump the car, yeah, that's what he meant...after work tonight. The downtown bus arrived just a few minutes later, and Blair climbed aboard. He pondered over the exhibit all the way back to the police station. He hoped that Jim wouldn't be too angry with his tardy partner.

* * *

His fears over being late were unrealized when he entered the station and found his partner at his desk, absorbed in whatever he was reading on the computer.

Jim looked up from the computer screen with a frown. "This case is getting on my nerves, Chief. Do you think you could help me out here? I need to see if these files coordinate with anything in the Central Database. And the damn thing won't let me in..." Jim snarled the last few words at the screen, and Blair bit back a grin. He nodded and glanced down at his partner. "Easy, man. Don't take out your frustrations on helpless silicon. Move over, let me see what I can do." He gestured Jim out of his chair, and the bigger man slid out.

Jim moved to stand behind Sandburg, and watched in awe as the younger man's fingers flew across the keyboard, typing in commands and codes, calling up the information needed. "I hate computers," he muttered as he shifted a little closer to read the screen. Too, if he were being truly honest with himself he decided, he wasn't moving closer just to read the screen. He'd become aware of a growing need to surround himself with the heat and scent of his Guide; felt a rising desire to test for himself if Blair's lips tasted as good as they looked.

Blair stifled a chuckle at Jim's words, figuring it wouldn't add anything to the other man's mood.

The two men spent the better part of the next two hours huddled around Jim's computer, reading the cross-indexed computer files. Blair felt like his fingers were beginning to cramp up from switching back and forth between files so often.

The door to the office across from Jim's desk opened up, and Simon walked out, carrying his coat. Both his best detective and his Guide-turned-partner had their heads bent over the computer, obviously intent on whatever they were reading. Simon stopped in front of Ellison's desk. "Any progress?" Jim looked up from the computer file he was studying. "Actually, Sir, we may have a lead," Jim replied. "The body we discovered yesterday can be linked with the bank president who disappeared two weeks ago. It seems the two men had a joint real estate venture that turned sour."

Simon smiled broadly. "Good work, you two." Blair clicked on the print option, and the printer next to Jim's desk began whirring noisily. Jim winced. "God, I wish that thing was quieter. What're you printing, Chief?" He leaned back in toward the screen, trying to ignore his reaction to the scent from Blair's hair. He needed to have all of his attention focused on the project at hand, not on thoughts about his Guide. "I found a file on the Sunshineland real estate project. Looks like the guy's been brought up on charges of fraud in the past...it's cross-filed with another real-estate scam, under a different name. That one was down in San Jose, California. Went under about a year ago." Jim pulled the report off the printer, and glanced through it. "It looks like we have a motive, Simon. And a murder suspect."

Simon nodded. "I hope so. The mayor is starting to put pressure on me to get this thing solved." "Doesn't this mean that it is almost solved, though? I mean, like, if you have the suspect and motive, can't you just go get him?" Blair asked. He was hoping that Jim wouldn't need him so much in the next few weeks. The exhibit was going to be a pretty demanding job. "We know who the suspect is, Chief, but we have to find him before we can arrest him," Jim replied, reaching around his partner to place the file and report on his desk. He yawned and stretched his body up, joints popping and creaking as he did so. "God, I'm ready to call it quits for today." Jim stretched again and reached for his coat. "You ready, Sandburg?" Blair nodded absently as he closed the files in the computer and backed out of the system.

Simon checked his watch. "Guess I'll call it a day, too," he said. "It's nearly seven o'clock." He headed for the door. "Make sure you keep me informed, Jim. Let me know when you're getting close, so I can let the mayor know." Jim nodded. "Good night you two. See you in the morning." "Night, Simon," Jim and Blair called together. Blair shut the computer off and stood up, doing his own joint-torturing stretch. "Seven o'clock. Man, it really sucks that there's only twenty- four hours in a day. I need some thirty-six hour ones here," he grumbled as he slipped on his coat.

Jim snorted as he buttoned his coat. "You'd get to the point, Sandburg, where thirty-six wouldn't be enough. Just be grateful for what you've got." He put a hand on the small of Blair's back and gave a gentle push. "Let's go."

"Just waitin' for you, man." Blair bounced alongside Jim to the elevator, and his partner found himself wondering where the younger man got all his energy. The kid never seemed to tire. "That was pretty good work," Blair continued as they waited for the elevator to the parking garage level. "What made you think that there was a connection between the murder and the bank president?" The elevator pinged its arrival, and the two men entered. Blair pushed the button for garage level, and watched Jim.

"Well, like I told Simon, there's the motive--although I'm still not sure entirely about *where* the connection is. I know they were real estate partners...and that some of the deals went sour. But without the land titles to prove it..." Jim's voice drifted off, and Blair glanced at his friend to see the older man's face drawn in contemplation. He smiled--he was very familiar with the 'detective look', as he called it. Usually meant Jim was concentrating on something. Of course, the down side to that was the possibility of a zone out...

"Jim. Hey, Jim. With me, buddy?"

"Huh? Yeah, sorry. Just following my thoughts around." The door to the elevator opened, and the two men exited, following the corridor around to the entrance to the garage. "Couldn't have done it without you, Chief," the Sentinel continued. "I can handle someone staring me down with a .45, but put a computer in front of me..." he broke off, and both men laughed. Jim wasn't completely computer-impaired, but it was close.

They were still laughing when they reached the truck, although Jim's chuckles were rapidly turning into yawns that became larger and more frequent as seconds passed. He unlocked Blair's side, then moved around to get in himself. "Hey, where's the Corvair?" Jim looked around, suddenly noticing that Blair was getting in with him.

His partner grinned sheepishly. "I took the bus this afternoon--it wouldn't start again. Guess I need a new battery."

Jim rolled his eyes, but left the subject alone. "Hey," Blair turned to his partner as the truck began to move. "Will you drop me at the university? I need to do a few things." Ellison frowned and glanced at Blair before returning his gaze to the road. "Isn't it a little late, Chief? Can't whatever it is you have to do wait 'til morning?" "No. It's really important I get going on this project." Jim yawned again, feeling the pull on his jaw with that one. It had *really* been a long day. "What project?" "Oh, man." The excitement in Blair's voice was evident. "I'm in charge of this major exhibit that Rainier is sponsoring. It's going to be so cool. The Mayan pieces alone are spectacular. There was this really neat..." The detective yawned again and tuned out the lecture. He drove to the university feeling totally exhausted. Blair chattered on, unaware that his friend was no longer paying attention. He was so excited about the exhibit that he didn't notice how quiet Jim had gotten. Jim pulled up in front of the anthropology building. "Call me when you're ready and I'll come pick you up," he said, wearily. Blair got out of the truck. "Don't worry about it, man. I'll just stay in my office. Probably won't get much sleep, anyway. I've got a lot to do." To himself he added, 'and maybe I can keep the dream away.' "Sandburg, I'll come pick you up."

Blair noticed for the first time how tired Jim looked. He shook his head. "No, man. That's all right. It won't be the first time I've slept in my office." If Jim hadn't been so exhausted, he may have noticed the obsessive quality in Blair's tone and questioned it. "Fine, Chief, whatever." "I'll call you tomorrow. You can grab me a change of clothes and pick me up on the way to work." Blair started to close his door, then pulled it back open. "I'll need a jump in the morning, too." 'I'd like to jump more than your car,' rang in Jim's mind as he answered, "Sure thing, Chief. See you tomorrow."

* * *

The tired detective made a U-turn and drove toward the loft. The cab of the truck was suddenly silent and it unnerved him. Whether or not he actually listened to Blair wasn't the issue. It wasn't the words that were so important, but the melodic sound. His Guide's voice was reassuring and it often soothed him. Jim had never stopped to analyze it. He just knew that Blair's tone often had a calming effect. Pulling into his parking space, he realized that he missed the enthusiastic presence, which often filled the emptiness beside him.

Ellison walked up the stairs and entered the darkened loft, frowning as he considered Blair's decision to stay on campus all night. It shouldn't be necessary for the younger man to sleep in his office, not when he had a perfectly good bed to come home to. The idea to go after his friend briefly crossed Jim's mind, but he dismissed it. Blair wanted to stay at the university.

He climbed into bed still thinking about Blair. No other heartbeat mingled with his and for the first time in a long time, the Sentinel felt lonely. He had trouble sleeping that night.

* * *

Blair watched the truck turn around, then headed for the anthro building, and the basement workroom.

He had a lot of cataloguing and separating to do, but the crate he'd opened a couple of days ago drew him. Blair walked toward the box that contained the Scottish kilt. Opening the lid, he removed the object that had fascinated him when he first found it--and still fascinated him. Blair held the bayonet in his hands. He turned it over and over, feeling its heavy presence. The mighty weapon scared him more than the sword he'd tried to lift a few days ago, and despite his aversion it fascinated him. He never tired of studying it. The young man held it a moment longer before putting it back in the crate. 'Enough playing,' he thought. 'Time to get back to work.' Blair was soon engrossed in cataloguing the artifacts. Sometime around midnight, Blair stood and stretched. His muscles groaned loudly and his stomach growled. Searching his pockets, the graduate student came up with two crumpled dollars and some change. This would get him a soda, and maybe a candy bar. He shrugged. Not the best food in the world but it would do for now. He climbed the stairs to the first floor where the vending machines were kept. He took a bite of his chocolate bar as he came back down the stairs. As Blair neared the entrance to the storage room, he stopped and frowned. What was that? When the sound he'd heard didn't happen again, he moved into the basement. Blair set down his soda on the table and finished his candy bar. He was reaching for a Zulu headdress piece when he heard the noise again. The anthropologist froze. 'There's no one here but me,' he thought. 'It's probably the wind whistling outside. Yeah, that has to be it.' Blair tried to shake the feeling he was being watched. He picked up the headdress. No other noise was heard and Blair soon forgot about his earlier fear. He worked steadily until early morning before he fell asleep on the floor, amid the artifacts.

* * *

It was a dizzying view...panoramic in its entirety. He could see the entire battlefield... Swords clashing with other swords...bayonets being stabbed...pistols firing...men fighting each other in hand-to-hand combat. Then the view changed, became more focused, and he was seeing through the eyes of one, rather than the eyes of all; still distanced, still dreamlike... but more real...

A tall young man turned in surprise when he sensed the English soldier behind him, and gasped at the first taste of steel against his skin, when the bayonet stabbed him. He cried out with the pain as the steel pierced through him, and another young man, who'd been walking just ahead of him, rushed back toward him in a panic, closing the distance.

Images rushed past him then, swirling around him in a miasma of incoherence and ambiguity. On one level he could feel the wound from the bayonet; on another he was merely observing, watching one man cradling another...hearing the heartfelt wail as the one gave up...

* * *

Tuesday, 3/25

"*CHIEF*!"

"Huh?" Blair sat up with a start, his muscles screaming in protest as he stretched them out.

"You okay, Chief?"

Blair stared stupidly at him, trying to figure out what was going on. He looked down at himself, wondering where the hole from the bayonet wound was. There should be one, shouldn't there?

"Blair! Are you okay?" Jim's voice was heavy with concern. Blair finally processed what was going on around him, and looked at Jim with recognition.

"Yeah, man...Fine. Weird dream." 'Again,' his mind threw out. So much for frantic activity stalling it out...

"Shit, you really slept in here, didn't you?" Jim shook his head in bemusement. "It started getting late, and you didn't call, so I thought I better come over here and look for you. You weren't in your office...but the secretary in the Anthropology office said you might be down here. I brought you some clothes, Chief. You need to get cleaned up--we have to get going."

"Going?" Blair rubbed his eyes, trying to bring the world into focus.

"Going. As in 'to work'? Something that most productive, useful people engage in?"

Blair snorted. "You're funny, man. What else do you do? Juggle? You need something to go with the stand-up routine."

Jim smiled and stretched a hand out to help his partner to his feet. Blair sighed, then groaned as his back spasmed.

"No more sleeping on floors, Chief. You're getting too old for that sort of thing," the older man cautioned with a glint of humor in his eyes as he watched Blair clutch at the sore muscles.

Sandburg snorted in disgust. "Ha. Don't be giving up your day job, man, if that's the best you can do." He reached for the small over-night bag that Jim was handing toward him, and headed for the bathroom down the hall.

"I'll meet you in your office, Chief," he heard Jim call to him.

"Right. Put some coffee on?" he called back over his shoulder.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later a reasonably clean, decently clad Blair was heading toward the Expedition, partner by his side, chattering excitedly on about the depth and breadth of things covered in the exhibit. He paused to catch his breath, and shot Jim an accusatory look.

"You're not even listening to me, are you?"

Jim bit his lip to keep from smiling. "I'm listening, Chief. I just have some other things on my mind, too."

"Yeah, I guess so. Sorry. I'm just really psyched about this."

Jim sighed dramatically. "You'd never be able to tell."

Blair grinned. "Okay. So I'm a tad over-enthusiastic. Part of my natural charm, man. Hey, let's get a bagel--I'm starved." There was a pause, then Blair swore, "Shit! We forgot to jump the Corvair. Oh well, never mind, man," he added, when Jim looked like he was going to turn around. "I'll just have campus security jump it this afternoon. Come on...bagels. I'm *really* hungry this morning."

Jim swung the Expedition into the shopping center they were passing, and shook his head as he watched Blair hop out and head into the deli.

Both men were silent for the remainder of the drive, their minds focused on things they needed to get done that day for their respective projects.

* * *

Thursday, 3/27

Blair, Michael and Sarina sat around a table in the student union, drinking coffee and exchanging ideas on how to best go about setting up the exhibit. Blair tuned the two younger students out for a minute, reflecting back on that morning, getting ready for the day.

It'd been a couple of days since he'd fallen asleep on the floor of the anthro building basement, and he was still having that damned dream every night. Each night revealed a tiny new detail...he expected any day now to be able to make out what the characters in the dream were saying.

He'd woke up with a gasp that morning, sure that something had happened, but not sure what that something was. His heart was pounding so hard and so loudly he was surprised he hadn't woken Jim up yet. He really dreaded the thought that that might happen--it'd be hard to explain to his friend how he was having a bad dream...well, not so bad as repetitious. Of course, to make matters worse still, overlaid on the battlefield dream were the remnants of a very erotic dream that had starred Jim Ellison as the principal figure.

He sighed to himself as he remembered *that* dream--Jim kissing him, caressing him...going down on him. Blair stifled a small gasp and quickly turned his thoughts back to the conversation going on around him. Things could quickly get out of hand if he didn't rein in those thoughts.

"Do we have all the artifacts in yet?" Michael was asking. Blair tuned into the conversation, and answered like he'd been listening all along.

"Most, but not all. Dr. H said they'd probably all be in by the end of this week, but I expect we'll have stragglers for several weeks." Blair looked down at his open notebook, and scribbled a notation next to the note 'dates'.

"Blair, what about additional personnel to help out? I don't think the three of us are going to be enough." Sarina had her own notebook in her lap and was busily making notes as her brain processed ideas.

"Good thought, Sarina. Go ahead each of you and ask--within a reasonable amount--whoever you feel you need to help with this. We're also going to have a couple classes of declared anthro majors assisting with the grunt stuff. So keep that in mind when you're asking around." Blair made another note. "Do either of you have a problem with working nights, or pulling the occasional all-nighter?"

Michael grinned. "Do we get paid extra?"

"Who said you were getting paid to start with?" Blair smirked at him. "Consider this an outstanding opportunity to view the inner workings of academia, man."

Sarina shook her head at the two of them. "Children...back on track, please. I have a class in 20 minutes."

Blair turned his attention back to their subject. "Seriously. Will there be a problem?"

Sarina shook her head. "Not as long as it doesn't interfere with my classes. I'll let you know."

"Fine. Michael?"

"Nah--my SO's an academic. Academics understand these things." He grinned at them, and Blair smiled back, thinking, 'unlike a certain police detective...' Not that Jim was his significant other...would he ever be so lucky in this life? More than likely not. He sighed.

"Okay, that's all I have for the moment. We'll meet each morning at 9:00, right?, to go over any questions, new developments, whatever. Good for you?" Michael and Sarina both nodded, and Blair continued. "Okay--let's plan to meet in the basement meeting room tomorrow night then, and get to work. I'll see you two there."

He gave them both a thumbs up sign, and began gathering up his voluminous amounts of paperwork. The other two did the same, then moved off in separate directions.

* * *

Jim eyed the empty chair next to his desk. Blair was busy at the university and probably wouldn't be into the station at all. That had been more and more the case lately. The anthropologist was increasingly spending time on some sort of project that kept him from his duties as guide. Jim knew--and expected--Blair to have to work at the university. It just felt weird that the man he considered his partner seemed to have disappeared.

It also worried Jim that his Guide hadn't been acting himself lately. Spending the night at the university was not completely in character. He remembered back to a few days ago when he had walked into the basement of the anthropology building. Seeing Blair curled up on the floor in the throes of some nightmare evoked every protective instinct in Jim. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and soothe the troubled young man. Jim knew it wasn't the first time his friend had had nightmares.

For a couple of nights now, Ellison had awakened to the thundering heartbeat of his Guide. Not wanting to intrude, not knowing if Blair needed him, or would welcome his help had kept Jim upstairs in his bed. All he could do was clench his fists, trying to control the achy feeling in his chest at his ineptitude and wishing that Blair would confide in him.

He sighed and hoped that whatever was bothering his partner would work itself out. He rose from his chair and went to get a cup of coffee.

* * *

Tuesday, 4/1

The moon peeked out of the clouds and did nothing to illuminate the university campus. Darkness clung to everything like cotton candy to a stick.

Inside the anthropology department, the activity had not diminished with the sunlight. Oblivious to the time, Blair and his team were busy in the conference room. The industrious group had managed to sort through some of the artifacts before moving to the conference room to discuss strategy.

"All right." Blair sat cross-legged on his chair, Sarina and Michael on either side of him at the round table. "Some more crates came in today and we still have yesterday's two crates to finish up."

Sarina nodded. "We got through some of the artifacts yesterday. But there's quite a bit to go through."

"Dr. H. has quite a collection," Blair agreed. "It all needs to be separated and labeled. I know we worked on some of that this afternoon. Any of you been having any problems?"

Michael spoke up. "There are some odd pieces to the collection. I'm not sure we're going to be able to use them in the exhibit."

Blair shoved hair from his face. "Dr. H. mentioned that. I'd like to use as much as we can, though. We can discuss the questionable pieces as they come up. Do you have any artifacts in mind?"

"Yeah," Michael replied, leaning back in his chair. "The British and Scottish stuff."

"I'll take care of those pieces, Michael," Blair said, quickly. "I have an idea for that already. Don't worry about it."

"Okay," Michael raised an eyebrow.

"Blair," Sarina spoke. "Do you know how many more crates of artifacts to expect?"

Blair rifled through the papers on the table. When he didn't find his notes there, he shifted to the short stack of notebooks. "I have it here somewhere," Blair muttered. Finally, he located a piece of napkin stuffed in one of his notebooks. Blair squinted at it through his glasses. "Dr. H. said that all the crates should be in in the next week or so, except for the central piece, which'll arrive the week before the exhibit opens."

"God, Blair," Michael teased. "A napkin?"

Blair looked sheepish. "I had lunch with Dr. Hathaway yesterday to update him on our progress. It was the only thing available."

Sarina frowned. "Dr. H. hasn't been in at all in the last week. What's the deal? He *is* still overlooking the project, right?"

Blair nodded. "Yes, but he's decided to remain in an advisory capacity. We're going to do the bulk of the work."

"What else is new?" Michael said, sarcastically.

Sarina leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. "Are we going to pull an all-nighter, Blair?"

The anthropologist's eyes lit up. "I was going to ask you about that. Didn't want to make any assumptions. Are you both up to it?"

Michael nodded as Sarina replied, "Sure thing, hon. Not a problem. Anything you need."

Blair heard the endearment, but his brain was too busy moving bits of information on the project around to really take note of it. He continued to search for another piece of paper. "Here it is," he announced triumphantly. "I was doodling this morning and I came up with a possible layout for the exhibit. It's a really rough one since not all of the artifacts have come in. Here, take a look." Blair spread the schematic on the table.

Each of them was so intent on the map that they failed to notice the young woman at the door.

"Mr. Sandburg?" she spoke, tentatively.

"This can't go there," Blair muttered and marked something out on the map with his red pen.

"Mr. Sandburg?" the girl spoke louder.

Michael touched Blair's arm and pointed to the doorway.

"Yes, Karen?" Blair asked.

"There's a phone call for you."

Blair waved it away. "Take a message. I'm really busy right now."

"Mr. Sandburg, I don't think he's going to like that. He sounds angry." Karen shifted, nervously.

Out of the corner of his eye, Blair saw Michael and Sarina exchange glances. His eyebrows knitted. "Who is it?"

"He says his name is Jim Ellison."

Blair looked puzzled. He inhaled sharply as he remembered. "Oh, God. What time is it? What *day* is it?"

Sarina answered his questions. "It's Tuesday. 7:30 p.m."

"Holy Shit!" Blair uncrossed his legs and rose to his feet in one fluid motion. "I'm in big trouble." Blair rushed around the table. As he left, he shouted, "No all-nighter tonight. I've gotta go."

The two remaining students exchanged a look of amazement with Karen.

* * *

Blair snatched at the receiver and breathlessly said, "I'm sorry, Jim. I completely forgot what time it was. I'm on my way."

"Make it quick, Sandburg. We're already late." Jim growled at him.

"How 'bout I meet you there?" Blair suggested.

"No way, Sandburg. Get your ass home. We'll go in my truck. Simon's expecting you. At the rate you're going, you'll forget how to get there."

Blair bristled. "Now just a minute, Jim--"

Jim cut him off. "Twenty minutes, Chief," he said tersely, before hanging up.

Blair stared at the receiver for a moment before slamming it into the cradle. 'Man,' he thought angrily to himself. 'So I forgot about Daryl's birthday party. No, that's not true,' Blair amended. 'I knew about his birthday. I just forgot to remember it was today. Still, that doesn't give Jim the right to jump all over me.' Something in Blair's stomach fluttered at the thought of those words.

Blair clamped down tightly on his runaway thoughts and raced out of the building.

* * *

The detective paced the loft and glanced at his watch impatiently. He couldn't believe that he'd had to call Sandburg. When the young man hadn't shown up at the designated time, Jim had been uncharacteristically angry. Didn't Blair have any priorities? He was supposed to be here with Jim, not off spending every waking moment at the university.

Jim had recently begun to realize that it was important to him that Blair be at his side. Ever since meeting the young man, they had rarely been separated for very long. They worked together, lived together, vacationed together. Each thought and felt differently, but they complemented each other well. They were truly friends--partners.

Now, it felt as if the balance had shifted, like the planets were out of alignment. The permanent fixture that had been Blair was practically living at the university, leaving the Sentinel feeling bereft. Jim felt as if he had only a tenuous hold on his partner. It was as if he could lose Blair at any moment and that thought scared him. He knew with unquestionable certainty that they were irrevocably linked. He didn't know when it happened or what it meant, just that he wouldn't let anyone take his Guide away from him.

The Sentinel's head snapped up at the distinctive sound of the Corvair. He estimated that it was a little over a mile away. Knowing that they were really late, he decided to meet his overdue partner in the garage.

* * *

The Corvair screeched to a halt in its usual parking spot and Blair sent a fervent prayer of thanks to the gods. For one heart-stopping moment, his car had refused to start and he feared he'd have to have the campus police jump it again. Or worse, call Jim to come pick him up. But whoever made the world go round had seen fit to let the young man get home.

Blair locked his car and was heading for the elevator when Jim stepped out of the shadows. The younger man jumped in surprise, gasping, "You scared me, man!"

"Wasn't sure you'd make it home in that heap you call a car, Chief, until I heard it a mile away. We're already late. Figured I'd just meet you out here. Let's go."

Blair chose to ignore the aspersions made against his beloved Corvair. He could hear the anger in Jim's voice and he sighed. As he followed Jim to the truck, he pondered Jim's latest flare of temper. It was so unlike the older man to lose it over something as petty as tardiness, especially when it was more a habit than an exception for Blair. 'Something else must be bothering him,' he thought. He turned to the man in the driver's seat and opened his mouth to speak. It promptly closed when he noticed Jim's hands clenched on the steering wheel. 'This is ridiculous,' Blair thought, 'the man's anal, but even this is a little extreme.' He looked again at his companion, wondering how to approach him. 'Maybe it's just stress. Now that his case load has lightened up, Jim will be able to relax and everything will go back to normal.' Talking to himself always made Blair feel better. Thinking he had Jim's problem figured out, he was about to congratulate himself when Jim spoke.

"What is it, Sandburg?" The detective's voice still held tension. "Spit it out. You've been giving me these looks since we left the loft."

Blair started. 'Looks?' he thought, 'What kind of looks? Please, God, I hope I'm not blushing.' He shifted uncomfortably and spoke, "Are you okay, Jim? You, uh, seem a little tense."

Jim glanced quickly at him before turning onto Simon's street. "I'm fine, Chief. Just didn't want to be late, that's all. Daryl's got school in the morning and Simon was just going to have a small dinner party. We've probably missed dinner."

Blair looked down at his hands guiltily. He fiddled with the hem of his plaid shirt as he spoke. "I'm sorry, Jim. I know Simon means a lot to you--"

"Yes, he does, Blair. He's a good friend and I take friendship very seriously. Just wish you would, too." Jim's anger had lessened, only to be replaced with a touch of bitterness.

Was Jim thinking about his friendship with Simon or his friendship with him? Did Jim think he didn't take their friendship seriously? 'Where would he get an idea like that?' Blair asked himself. With sudden understanding, he realized that in his preoccupation with the exhibit, he'd neglected their friendship. The young man vowed that he would make it up to Jim. After all, the Sentinel was the most important person in his life. He wasn't afraid to admit that now.

Jim pulled to a stop in front of Simon's two-story brick house. Cutting off the engine, he turned to his partner. Blair had been awfully quiet since Jim had made that comment about friendship.

Blair shifted in his seat to look at Jim. He was intensely aware of the other man's nearness. He had a sudden urge to reach out and massage the tense shoulders, to ease the grim lines wrinkling the handsome brow. He settled for picking imaginary lint from his pants.

Jim's gaze never left his friend. "Guess we'd better go on in," he said softly, before turning away and opening the door. He had one foot on the pavement when he felt Blair's hand on his arm. Jim turned, questioningly.

"Jim," Blair spoke, softly, "I do take friendship seriously. It's important to me, too." His depth of sincerity and commitment shone brilliantly from light blue eyes.

Jim read the message and accepted the truth of it. "I know it is, Chief." The older man shook his head and got out of the truck. "I don't know what's gotten into me lately. Guess I'm just tired."

Blair smiled slightly and joined Jim on the sidewalk. "Yeah, that must be it. You put a lot of hours into that last case."

"Still, that's no excuse for biting your head off back there. I'm sorry, Chief."

Blair's smile widened. "Hey, if you can't let loose with friends, what good are they?"

Jim returned the smile. "You're right, I guess. Still, you must be tired of getting it from me all the time, huh?"

Blair's smile lost some of its brilliance as he shook his head negatively, thinking, 'I don't *get* it from you at all, big guy. At least not in the way I *want* it. God, Jim, why can't you see it? You're a Sentinel and you can't even *see* it.' He'd long ago given up trying to deny his feelings for Jim Ellison.

"Ready? We've wasted enough time standing out here. I can smell Simon's famous hamburgers from here." Jim's mood had lightened considerably and his stomach now demanded attention.

"Sounds good. I'm starved," Blair replied, pushing away his runaway thoughts.

The two headed for Simon's front door and the promise of food. And, for a little while, all was right with the world.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Tuesday, 4/10

Blair turned over and threw the blanket over his head. It was no use, the bright light streaming through his windows had already jarred him from sleep.

His yawn nearly cracked his jaw as he stumbled to his feet. Pulling on the t-shirt he'd taken off in the middle of the night, he straightened his boxers and headed into the kitchen. Blair could hear Jim in the shower and decided to start the coffee. He needed a cup, especially after the night he'd had.

He yawned again and shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs out. He'd had another dream last night, and they were getting worse. At first, there had just been bits and pieces, but now a picture was beginning to form...and he didn't know what to make of it.

He sighed when he heard the shower shut off. Each night for the past two weeks he'd had this dream, and each night he woke up in a cold sweat. The flashing images were so real, so vivid that it often took him a moment to orient himself and realize he was at home, safe in his bed. The emotions he felt in the dream--dreams--were so *real*, and always different. One night he'd be happy, giddy even; the next he'd ache with so much sadness he sometimes woke up with wet spots on the pillow from crying. It amazed him that Jim hadn't noticed anything odd, and called him on it.

"Chief?"

Blair jumped back, startled, smacking his hand into the hot coffee pot. He yelped and jerked his hand away.

"Geez, man. Do you have to sneak up on people?" he grabbed his injured hand.

"Sandburg, I just walked right in front of you. You were a million miles away and didn't see me." Jim had been buttoning his shirt but stopped in favor of staring at Blair with concern. He reached for Blair's injured hand. "Let me take a look at that."

Blair shook his head and tucked the injured hand under his arm. "No, no. It's okay." Jim was too close and Blair could see a puckered nipple on the expansive chest peaking out of the half open shirt. Blair squeezed his eyes shut. 'Why am I looking? Why?'

Jim took Blair's momentary sightlessness to take his hand and examine it. "I think you'll live," he pronounced.

Blair opened his eyes and glared at him. "I believe I *said* that."

"Sorry, Chief, just had to make sure." Jim let go of Blair's hand and stepped back. "Why don't you go shower. I'll cook breakfast for a change. Wouldn't want you to have any more accidents."

"Sounds good." Blair went to his room for a clean change of clothes.

As the younger man headed back toward the bathroom, Jim spoke, "Don't take too long. We've got a meeting with Simon this morning."

Blair stopped, startled. "Didn't I tell you? I'm not going in with you today. I've got stuff to do at the university."

Jim put the eggs he'd pulled from the refrigerator down and looked closely at Blair. "Chief, you've been saying that for days. Yesterday morning you promised you'd come in today."

Blair's eyebrow went up. "I did? I don't remember saying that."

Jim nodded. "You'd probably remember if you'd been getting enough sleep."

A stricken look crossed Blair's face. "What? How-"

"Come on. I know you haven't been sleeping well. Even if I didn't have any sentinel abilities, I'd still notice the circles under your eyes. Face it, Sandburg, you look tired."

"I've just been having these really weird dreams, that's all," Blair mumbled.

"Well, I'm beginning to worry about you. First you haven't been sleeping well and now you haven't been going to the station. Do you know it's been days since you were down there? Man, even Simon asked me were you were yesterday."

"I'm sorry. I hadn't realized it had been that long," Blair replied, guiltily.

"What's so important at the university, Chief? Whatever it is, it can't be good." Jim finally cracked the eggs in the frying pan.

"Oh, Jim, but it is. I told you I was working on that exhibit for Dr. Hathaway."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah. I remember now. How long have you been working on that thing, anyway? Shouldn't you be almost done with it?"

Blair shook his head. "No, it won't be ready for awhile. We've only been working on it for two weeks."

"Great." The detective muttered. "And this madness won't end for how long?"

"Actually, the opening is in about six weeks." Blair frowned. "What do you mean, 'this madness'?"

Ellison sighed, a long-suffering sound. "When was the last time you went out? When was the last time you called a girlfriend and went out on a date?"

"What?! Are you offering, man?" Blair challenged then mentally kicked himself. He didn't seem to have any control over the words coming from his mouth lately.

Jim gave him an indecipherable look, then ignored the question. "Well, think about it. Your life has been tied into that exhibit. You've thought of nothing else, done nothing else. It's like you're obsessed."

"That's not true!" Blair exclaimed, indignantly. "I just want to do a good job, that's all. People are counting on me."

Jim gave up trying to make breakfast. He spoke, quietly, "That's right, Chief. People *are* counting on you."

Blair closed his eyes briefly and let out a slow breath. "I'm sorry, Jim. Look, let me shower and get dressed and then we'll head for the station."

Jim smiled. "Sounds good, Sandburg. Get to it."

Blair nodded and disappeared into the bathroom.

Ellison's smile left his face. 'What's going on with the kid?' He wondered. Blair was totally focused on this exhibit, and the detective didn't like it one bit.

'Why?' the little voice in his head sneered. 'Are you jealous, Ellison? You're no longer the center of the kid's universe. Maybe this is one step closer to him leaving you.' The voice taunted, relentlessly.

"No!" Jim yanked at a coffee mug, angrily. "That's not going to happen." So why all of the sudden was he afraid?

Jim shook his head and filled his mug. He was worrying about nothing. Blair was just a little busier than usual. As soon as this exhibit was over, things would go back to normal.

The Sentinel heard the blow dryer go on and he sat down to wait for his partner. He was placing his empty cup into the sink when Blair came out of the bathroom.

The young man pulled his hair into a ponytail as he walked toward Jim. "I'm ready whenever you are."

"Let's eat breakfast and get going then." Jim looked down at the frying pan and realized he hadn't turned the stove on. He shook his head. Anybody home? Jim raised his eyes to see Blair smiling at him. "Guess we'll grab something on the way to the station."

Blair snickered. "Guess we'll have to, huh, big guy? See if I let you volunteer to cook again." He smiled as he gathered their jackets up. "Ready?"

Jim nodded. "Let's go, Chief. I'm itching to track down Humphreys."

"Humphreys?" Blair frowned as he and his partner headed for the Expedition.

They were well on their way to the station before Jim answered. "Yeah, Nathan Humphreys. The bank president we suspect of killing his real estate partner, John Dvorzniak."

"Oh, yeah, right. Sorry. Guess I've been a little preoccupied," Blair mumbled.

Jim let the silence speak for him as they pulled up to the station.

They entered to find Simon waiting for them. "Jim," he said. "I've got a lead for you. Humphreys' sister lives in Seattle. You need to talk to her. Chances are she'll know where her brother is. I don't want to upset her or warn him in any way so you and Sandburg need to go to Seattle."

Blair's eyes widened. He knew he'd promised to help Jim today, but he'd been hoping to get away this afternoon. Well, there was no way to get out of it. He'd have to go. Blair consoled himself with that thought that Seattle was only about an hour away. Still, this could take all afternoon and possibly tomorrow, too.

Jim looked at his partner and noticed the look of dismay on his expressive face. The detective knew that the damned exhibit was foremost in Blair's mind. Jim waited expectantly.

"Let's go," Blair said simply.

Jim raised an eyebrow and nodded.

"Be careful, you two," Simon said.

"We will. Don't worry," Jim replied.

Sentinel and Guide left the building and Cascade each in his own thoughts. Jim felt a little guilty for pushing Blair that morning, but he really did need him. His Guide belonged with the *him*, not doing some stupid project for the university. He frowned. He really needed to stop thinking this way. Blair was first and foremost an anthropologist and an educator. Still, he was not only grateful, but relieved that Sandburg had decided to come with him to Seattle.

Blair was looking out the window, watching the beautiful Cascade Mountains go by. He was deep into his own thoughts and didn't notice the silence in the truck.

Jim's words from this morning echoed back to him. 'Your life has been tied into that exhibit....It's like you're obsessed.' Was he? Blair shook his head. No. He was tackling a project the way he'd always had...with enthusiasm. But maybe Jim was right about the other thing. Maybe the exhibit was tied into his dreams. He hadn't made the connection himself until Jim had this morning. Blair had started have the dreams at around the same time he had begun working on the exhibit. Even now he shuddered as he remembered the tingling sensation of holding that bayonet, only to wake up hours later on a cold hard floor with the sounds of battle pounding in his head. He hadn't mentioned that dream or any others to Jim, preferring to deal with it himself. He didn't want the other man to think that he was some weakling that needed a Blessed Protector all of the time.

Blair sneaked a peek at his Blessed Protector and noticed the frown that marred that beautiful forehead. 'Sandburg, cut that out. Thoughts like that are just trouble waiting to happen. Jim's not gonna go for you in a million years...' But Jim was beautiful and Blair couldn't help his thoughts anymore than he could help breathing. Those hard, supple muscles that rippled under those sweaters he liked to wear sent tendrils of heat circling through the anthropologist. Blair pushed the image away. He'd get himself into trouble otherwise. 'I really need to go out on a date,' thought Blair. 'Thinking about Jim like this just is not a good idea. Maybe Molly'll be free this weekend. I think I'll call her when we get home.' Molly--or any other person--wouldn't replace in his heart what he felt for Jim Ellison, but at least it would provide a diversion.

* * *

Jim broke the silence as they entered Seattle. "You have that address, Chief?"

Blair nodded and fished the piece of paper Simon had given him as they left the station. "Yeah. Claire Humphreys...1442 Birmingham Avenue."

"Why don't you check the map for it, Blair. It'll save us time." Jim indicated the glove box.

Blair nodded and slipped into navigator mode as he spread the map across his lap. It proved a distraction from his straying thoughts and for that he was grateful.

* * *

Jim pulled up in front of a small red brick home, and smiled bemusedly at Blair. "You know Chief, we would have been here twenty minutes ago if you hadn't told me to turn right at Lincoln Street."

"Jim, it was a little mistake. We just went in the wrong direction." Blair smiled slightly.

Jim rolled his eyes and got out of the car. "Where have I heard that one before."

Blair playfully smacked him on the arm. "At least it wasn't forty miles."

They both laughed.

Jim stopped laughing abruptly and he frowned.

"What--" Blair started to ask, but Jim held up a hand. Blair realized he was listening to something only a sentinel could hear.

Jim refocused on Blair and withdrew his cell phone from his pocket. "Call the Seattle P.D. for backup. Simon should have called ahead and apprised them of the situation. Humphreys is in there and I'm going in after him." Without waiting to see if Blair complied, the detective pulled his gun and made his way around to the back of the house.

Blair frowned as he dialed 911. 'Please be careful, Jim. Please.' The mantra played like a broken record in his head as he spoke into the phone. He identified himself and Jim, and informed the dispatcher of the circumstances. As he disconnected the call he saw the front door open, and then Jim's face appeared. "It's okay, Chief. I've got him. Backup coming?"

Blair nodded and swallowed the lump that had somehow crept up in his throat. He knew he shouldn't worry. Jim was well-trained and knew what he was doing, but Blair still felt relief whenever Jim came through safely.

"Stay out here and wait for them. I can hear the sirens now." Jim was saying.

"How--" Blair started to ask then realized his error as Jim smiled at him. "Yeah. Right."

Moments later, the Seattle P.D. came screeching to a halt in front of the house. They escorted Nathan Humphreys to one of the cruisers.

One of the detectives came forward and introduced himself to Jim and Blair as Detective Bruce West.

"Bruce, thanks for helping the Cascade P.D. with this one." Jim shook his hand.

"Not a problem. Not a problem. Simon and I go way back. When he called me early--and I do mean early--this morning I was ready to help. We've been expecting your call." The Seattle detective replied, at the same time drawing deeply on the cigar in his mouth.

"You two go back a long way, huh?" Blair couldn't resist asking.

The detective smiled. "Sure do. Who do you think showed him the finer things in life--like cigars?" West chuckled before turning serious again. "Jim, we'll arrange transportation of the prisoner back to Cascade. I'll make all of the arrangements with Simon. You're done here."

"Thanks, Bruce. I appreciate it. Hope to work with you again." They shook hands again, and said goodbye. Jim turned to Blair. "Come on, Chief. Time to hit the road. We should be home by late afternoon."

Blair nodded, grateful that this assignment had been this easy, and wrapped up this quickly. He headed for the truck, Jim right behind him.

* * *

Jim tossed his keys in the basket by the door as he walked into the loft, Blair close behind him. He yawned and stretched. He was tired. They had stopped off at the station on the way home to update Simon and wrap up details of the case. It was up to the DA to officially close it, but Jim had no doubt that Humphreys would sing like a bird. He was a wobbly pile of jello when Jim had arrested him. It wouldn't take much persuasion to get Humphreys to talk.

"Hey, big guy, you hungry? I could make us some pasta and a salad," Blair asked as he headed for the kitchen.

"Sure, Chief, sounds good." Jim walked over to the answering machine and noticed the red light blinking. He hit the play button.

"Blair?" A woman's lilting voice came through the speakers. "It's me, Sarina. Call me when you get in, okay? It's important. Something very weird has been happening over here and I think you should know about it. Please call me. My number is 555-2271." The tape ended and began to rewind.

Jim hit the save button and turned to his roommate. "Did you get that?"

Blair frowned and nodded. "I wonder what happened?"

Jim shrugged and headed for the fridge. "Want a beer?"

"Yeah, thanks," Blair nodded gratefully as he put a pot of water on to boil, and began throwing the salad together.

Blair took a long swallow of his beer as he added pasta to the already boiling water. "Hey, Jim. Keep an eye on the pasta. I'm going to call Sarina." Blair disappeared into his room to use the phone.

Jim checked his watch. 'A world record,' he mused. 'Usually, the kid's curiosity would have gotten to him sooner. Must be hungry.' They hadn't eaten much today. Breakfast had been a bust and lunch was a quick stop at some greasy hamburger joint.

Jim reached over and turned the burner off. The pasta was cooked. He wondered briefly what seasonings Blair intended to use when he heard his Guide's voice tense in alarm. He unabashedly tuned into the conversation.

"...how many? Three? They were all directed to Dr. H.?" Pause. "Yeah, all right. I'll check my voice mail. I just don't know why people would do that." Pause. "Sarina, it'll be okay. There are just some people out there who are close-minded." Blair paused again and Jim could hear Sarina's agitated voice on the other end. His Guide tried to interrupt. "Sarina, hey, calm down. They won't try anything. Most protesters are peaceful people." Jim knew he was thinking about his mother. "They have a right to their opinion just as much as we do. We knew there would be controversy when we started this project and it's finally happened." Jim heard Blair sigh. "Sarina, they are just protest calls. They're harmless." Another pause. "Okay, Sarina. I'll see you tomorrow. Don't worry everything will work out. Bye."

Blair came out of his room and saw Jim setting the table. He quickly walked to the stove and grabbed the pasta. He soon had it drained and seasoned.

As they sat down to eat Jim asked, "So, is everything okay at the university?"

"Yeah," Blair answered. "No big deal, really. Some people aren't too happy about the exhibit and they're complaining. Happens all the time."

Jim raised an eyebrow at his blasé attitude. "Sarina sounded pretty worried about it."

Blair glanced at him in surprise. "You were listening? Jim, that was a private phone call." The anthropologist was more angry than he cared to admit.

Jim held up his hands in surrender. "Take it easy, Chief. No harm. I don't cut into your privacy. It's just that I caught the concern in your voice and..."

"You thought that gave you permission to eavesdrop." Blair finished, sarcastically. "I really wish you wouldn't do that."

"I'm sorry, Blair. It won't happen again."

Blair glared at him, then shook his head with a rueful smile. "Who are you kidding? You're a Sentinel. It'll happen again, and I won't like it again, but I guess that's what I get for living with a man with heightened senses."

Jim grinned back. "That's probably true, Sandburg, but I'll try my best not to invade your privacy."

"Thanks, man. I'd really appreciate that," Blair said sincerely as he rose from the table. "Come on, let's leave the dishes and watch a movie."

"I don't know, Chief. House rule number--"

Blair interrupted. "Not tonight, Jim. Loosen up. Let's live dangerously and do something on the cutting edge: Let's forget the house rules--and the dishes."

Jim looked at his smiling roommate and felt his heart contract. "Okay, Sandburg, just this once. But I get to choose the movie."

"Deal."

The end credits for LETHAL WEAPON were starting to roll when Blair began to yawn.

"Why don't you hit the hay, Chief," Jim suggested as he shut the television off.

"Sounds like a plan, man. Night." Blair yawned again and walked into his room. He undressed and eased himself between the cool, crisp sheets. He was just starting to doze off when he heard water running in the kitchen. Blair snickered in the darkness. He knew Jim wouldn't be able to hold out until morning. Jim and his rules. The kitchen had to be clean.

Blair smiled and drifted off to sleep...

* * *

_...and fell into the by-now-familiar panorama...except there was something markedly different about this one...it *felt* real. He was there...this was no dream, anymore, except he was reliving it through dreaming it... _

_Sounds of battle filled the air--the clash of swords, marked by the occasional volley of gunfire, all overlaid with the sounds of human suffering on an incredibly large scale. _

_A tall young man turned in surprise when he sensed the English soldier behind him, and gasped at the first taste of steel against his skin, when the bayonet stabbed him. He cried out with the pain as the steel pierced through him, and another young man, who'd been walking just ahead of him, rushed back toward him in a panic, closing the distance. _

_"Ky! No!" The other man charged the soldier, now standing over his friend, who was kneeling, clutching his stomach. "Ye murderin' bastard--" He knocked the soldier to the ground, pulled his head back by his hair, and drew his dirk across the soldier's throat. The soldier was dead before his head hit the ground. The young man turned around and knelt beside the wounded man. "Oh, God, Ky..." He clutched his friend around the shoulders. "How bad is it, mo cridh?"_

_"Bad," Ky gasped out. "I dinna think I can walk, Ian." He brought his hands away from his stomach, and stared in disbelief at the blood he found on them. Ky could feel himself shaking in Ian's protective embrace. _

_"We need to get awa' from here. I need to lay ye down to look at ye." Ian stood up and looked around. "There's a small hollow just a bit away," he told Ky. "I'm goin' to need yer help, Ky--I canna carry ye alone, ye're too big. Can ye help me?" _

_Ky groaned with the pain as Ian helped him shift into a standing position. "I'll...try...Ahhhhhh." He ended the short reply with a hiss when Ian's hand brushed against the wound. "Christ, man! Dinna touch it!" _

_"Och, sorry--I need to bind ye up, though, Ky. Ye're bleedin' something fierce." _

_"Aye--but we havena got time. Let's get goin'. I'll do for now." Ky wobbled on his legs, and Ian put the larger man's arm over his shoulders, supporting his weight, holding him up with an arm around his waist. They managed maybe a dozen steps or so before Ky's legs gave out, and he tumbled both of them to the ground. He lay there, curled in a ball with his hands clutching at his stomach, praying for the death he knew was coming. _

_"Ky? Hold on, mo cridh. I just have to think..." Ian broke off, looking around at the battle and carnage surrounding them. _

_"Ian. It's no use, mi dhu, I'm dyin'. Gie up, man, and get yerself gone from here."_

_"No! I'm no goin' to leave ye alone, Ky." Ian grabbed Ky under the arms and began dragging him. Ky hissed with the pain, but made no other sounds. Ian dragged him over to the tree he'd seen, and into the hollow, where they were slightly sheltered. Ky touched his arm, and Ian looked down at him. Ky could see the pain and concern in Ian's face, and knew his own reflected that. He gazed into Ian's eyes, imploring him silently before speaking the words. _

_"Ian. Listen to me, mi dhu. I'm dyin'--there's nothing goin' to save me now. Ye need to leave. Don't let them catch ye." _

_He watched Ian swallow, trying to hold back a sob. "Ye're no dyin', mo cridh. Ye can't die. What in hell will I do wi'out ye? I love ye, Ky...dinna leave me, please!" Ian couldn't hold the sobs in any longer, and bent his head to the wounded man's chest, crying against him. _

_Ky brought his arms up around the slighter man, and held him best as he was able. He stroked the curly black head with one hand, and murmured soft words to him. "Shhh...dinna fash, love. Ye'll manage without me. It wasna meant for us to be together in this life. We hae to accept that." _

_Ian brought his head up to look at Ky, grey eyes cloudy with tears. "What d'ye mean, 'no meant for us to be together in this life'? What other is there?" _

_Ky shook his head. "I love ye, mi dhu. I'll love ye forever--ye're my heart, soul, breath and life."_

_Tears flooded the grey eyes again, and Ky was hard-pressed not to cry with him. His voice sounded noticeably weaker now, even to himself, and his skin felt cold and clammy. He was dying...it was just a matter of time. Ian bent his head to Ky's, and gently kissed him. "An' I love ye, Kythe Cameron MacKenzie. Ye've only been my lover for a few months, but they were the best months of my life. And the years ye've been my friend..." Ian broke off, and Ky knew he was trying not to cry, to be brave for him. _

_Ian shifted them around, so that Ky's head and shoulders lay in his lap, and he could hold him a little easier. Ky felt his breathing becoming more labored and irregular, and there were pauses now and again between breaths where there'd not been before. Ky could feel Ian tense up beneath him each time there was a break in his breathing, and he silently implored God to end this soon--for Ian's sake as much as for his own. _

_Ian held him for what seemed like hours, although he knew realistically it wasn't that long. When he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could almost imagine that they'd just made love, and Ian was simply holding him, waiting for sleep to claim them, held in his lover's arms like so many times before. His life force was fading quickly; the tenuous threads that held him to this life, this body, were breaking one by one. He needed to hurry. There were things he needed to share with Ian... Ky shifted minutely, and couldn't prevent the faint groan that fell from his lips. He opened his eyes to see Ian staring down at him. Ky opened his mouth to speak, and Ian leaned in closer to hear the weak voice. _

_"I love ye, Ian Patrick MacKenzie. Now, forever, for always. We'll be together again...We're meant to be. I promise ye, mi dhu--I'll forever watch for ye, and I will find ye again, no matter how many years or lifetimes it takes."_

_"Oh, God, Ky...please...I canna bear it...dinna leave me...take me wi' ye..." _

_"Ye're no meant to go yet, Ian. I hae to do this alone--as ye're meant to go on your journey alone. Now kiss me again, mi dhu...send me on my way wi' the taste of ye on my lips." _

_Ian complied, bending to kiss Ky, his tears mingling with the kiss, wetting their lips. He pulled away from Ky to find the other man staring sightlessly up at the sky, the life gone from his body. _

_Sobs racked the other man then; great heart-wrenching sobs that spoke of deep grief. He gathered Ky's lifeless body to his chest, and sat there, rocking back and forth, mindless of the carnage around him..._

* * *

Friday, 4/11

Blair sat up in bed with a gasp, clutching at his stomach. He'd felt the bayonet this time--felt it actually piercing his stomach. He shuddered. God, that was weird. How many times in a row was he going to have this dream, anyway? This one had been more intense than the last one--and more detailed, too. Even to the point of looking down from somewhere, watching a strange-yet surprisingly familiar--man clutch a dead body to him, crying.

He shook his head, and smoothed his hair back from his eyes, then swung his legs out of bed and got up. It was nearly time for the alarm to go off anyway, might as well get a jump start on the morning. He pulled a T-shirt on, and headed out to make coffee.

A sleepy voice called down from the loft upstairs, "Chief? Everything all right?"

Blair called back, "Fine, man. I just had a weird dream...it kinda freaked me out. Go back to sleep." He heard a soft snort and smiled, then reached for the can of coffee.

He wasn't surprised to hear footsteps a few minutes later. Once Jim was up, he was up. He glanced over toward the stairs, and felt his mouth go dry when he saw Jim walking casually toward him, just now pulling a T-shirt over his head. God, what he'd give to be able to touch that chest... He shoved that thought down quickly, and tried to rearrange his face into a neutral mask.

"'Morning, Jim."

"Hey, Chief. How long before the coffee's ready?"

"Just put it on. Sorry about waking you up."

"S'okay--it was almost time to get up anyway. What happened?"

Blair shook his head and pulled mugs from the cupboard. "Just a weird dream, man. Seemed real--like I was right there in it. But," Blair laughed at himself, "I guess all dreams do, right? That's the reason they can scare us so bad."

Jim smiled slightly at his partner. "If you say so, Chief. I don't dream much myself."

Blair sighed in mock resignation. "Figures." He pulled open the refrigerator and stared inside. "What do you want for breakfast? I think it's my turn."

"Yeah, it is...but I'm not really hungry this morning." Jim reached around Blair and took out the container of creamer, then backed away, stretching. Blair tried not to watch, but found himself looking out of the corner of his eye. The way all those muscles tightened like that...

"Me neither." He closed the door with another sigh. "Guess I'll just get a bagel later."

"Mmm. You goin' to the station today?" Jim poured them both a mug of coffee and handed one to Blair.

Blair shook his head negatively. "I have a class--to teach-and then some other stuff to take care of on campus. Got some work to do on the exhibit, too. Why?" The two men walked into the living room and took up seats on the couch and loveseat.

Jim shrugged. "Just wondered. I like to know what's going on."

They sat there in companionable silence, drinking their coffee, enjoying the beginning of the day. Blair tossed the thought round and round in his head, then looked up at Jim--to find the other man studying him. "What?"

Jim shook his head. "You really look tired. Is everything okay? After those phone calls..."

Blair shrugged. "Don't start again. I told you--it's no big deal. You're as bad as Sarina. Hey, man--do you believe in reincarnation?"

"What? Where'd that come from, Chief?"

"I don't know--just wondering, I guess. Do you?"

"What, like past lives, and that sort of stuff?"

"Yeah."

Jim shook his head. "Don't even go there with me. That's just so much nonsense." He looked at Blair's face. "Don't tell you believe in that?"

"Well, sure, man. I mean, it makes sense, right? Don't you ever just *know* something--or someone--and wonder how that got there?"

Jim shook his head. "I never really thought about it. But," he set his mug down and stood up, "I still don't buy it. One life, Chief. Make it count." He stretched again, then headed up the stairs to get dressed for work. Halfway up he stopped and called down, "You need a ride to campus?"

"No, I'm gonna drive. Thanks though."

"Sure." Jim's voice floated down to him.

Blair headed into his own room, a vague sense of frustration filling him. That dream meant something, or he wouldn't keep having it. Not the same dream, varying only slightly with regard to detail. And dreams weren't usually that detailed. Maybe he was having a past-life flashback? Or just losing his mind? Too many viewings of BRAVEHEART? Blair smiled as he pulled off his T-shirt and shorts. He really liked that movie. There was something about that movie--about Mel Gibson's character-that reminded him somewhat of Jim. A man fighting for a cause he believed in. He glanced at the clock and put all thoughts of reincarnation and related topics out of his mind. He was going to be late if he didn't hurry, and that wouldn't be good.

Jim was still upstairs when Blair emerged from his room a scant ten minutes later. He grabbed keys, backpack and jacket, and called out, "See you later, man; you're cooking tonight," and was gone before Jim could reply.

* * *

Blair didn't see Jim again until later that evening.

"Catch any bad guys today?" he asked as they sat down to eat dinner.

Jim broke off a piece of bread and put it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed before answering. "No. It was pretty slow today. Ended up catching up on paperwork." He grimaced. "Wish you'd been there."

Blair quickly glanced down at his plate. He could feel the slight flush beginning to creep up his neck and he hoped to God Jim didn't notice. Jim's comment had been innocent enough--he just meant that he could have used Blair's help with the paperwork--but it still felt good that Jim needed him, missed him.

"Chief, you okay?" Jim was looking at him in concern.

So he had noticed.

Blair looked up. "I'm fine," he lied as his brain scrambled for an excuse for his odd behavior.

Jim was watching him closely, a frown on his face. "You don't look fine. Are you feverish? You looked kind of flushed." Jim reached out to place a hand on Blair's forehead.

It took all of Blair's willpower not to jerk away. That would have set Jim's alarm bells off. Lately Jim's touch had been more of a torture than a comfort. It was so familiar to him, so expected, yet Blair was feeling guilty for the thoughts that passed through his mind at those innocent touches.

Jim was talking to him again. "Chief? Blair? What's wrong? You zoned out on me for a couple of minutes there." Jim's hand moved from Blair's forehead to his shoulder and stayed there.

Blair swallowed. He needed something to distract Jim, distract himself.

"I'm okay, Jim, really." Blair forced himself to take a bite of potato. It felt dry and stuck in his throat. Jim's hand remained on his shoulder. 'This is ridiculous, Sandburg. Why are you so nervous? You're making much too big a deal here,' he berated himself.

Blair smiled, slightly. "We had a bit of excitement with the exhibit today, that's all."

Jim removed his hand from Blair's shoulder. Leaning back in his chair, he studied his partner. For a few minutes there, Blair's body heat had risen and his heart had been racing. Could this excitement Blair was talking about be the cause? He hoped it was the case. He really didn't like it when Blair kept things from him. The young man's state of being was very important to him. Jim frowned. Where had that come from? He mentally shook himself. It had probably always been there. He just never put it into words, not even to himself.

"What kind of excitement, Chief?" Jim asked, letting his thoughts drift. He'd never really stopped to analyze his protective feelings toward Blair. It was instinct. The need to protect his mate. Jim's frown deepened. Mate? Roommate. He was sure he meant roommate.

"...death threats. Pretty wild, man," Blair was saying when Jim tuned back into the conversation.

"Death threats?" 'Don't panic now, Jim. Let's just hear what he has to say.'

"Yeah." Blair nodded his head.

"Who's getting these threats?" Jim looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Was this what Sarina was talking about on the phone yesterday? Are any of the threats aimed at you?"

Blair swallowed a piece of roast beef. Finally, a safer topic if you could call it that. "Well, yes...and no. I'm not receiving any threats." Blair sipped his water. "Not really, anyway." He amended.

"What is *that* supposed to mean?" Jim leaned forward in his chair, his anxiety level starting to climb.

Blair shrugged. "Well, the phone calls come in, asking for Dr. Hathaway. He's the one in charge of the exhibit. But the calls threaten the anthro department in general and the exhibit team in particular."

"Dammit, Blair!" Ellison slammed an open palm on the table. "What the hell is going on at that university?!"

Blair looked slightly surprised. "Jim, I told you what was coming up. The exhibit, remember?"

Jim glared at him. "I remember the exhibit--you've been eating, sleeping, breathing, living it for weeks now. What is *up* with it though? What are you exhibiting?"

"It's nothing that should be that big of a deal..."

"Sandburg..."

"All right." Blair pushed his hair out of his face. "It's quite a large exhibit really, and we're doing it in tandem with the history department. The major theme is Cultural Rituals and Taboos."

"Go on," Jim said when Blair paused.

Blair looked at him. "You really should try *listening* to me, man. I told you all this ages ago."

"Don't push, Chief. Talk."

"Okay, okay. The unusual thing about this exhibit is that it isn't focused on any one particular culture. It involves many. For example, the Native American culture here in the United States, the Zulu culture in Africa, the Mayan culture in South America--"

"I got it, Chief," Jim interrupted his Guide's recitation. He recognized Sandburg's lecture mode.

"Dr. Hathaway has been working on it for almost three years. Unfortunately, there are some people who don't approve of the exhibit and are trying to shut it down. It will be up and running, though." Blair's excitement at the exhibit was evident in his eyes.

Jim sat back down and said softly, "At who's expense, Blair?"

"Come on, Jim." It was Blair's turn to get up. "You've got to look at the bigger picture here. It's not *who* that's important. It's *what*. It's freedom, Jim. Freedom to communicate, freedom to educate. If we give in to these threats, what is that saying about us and where will it stop?"

"I see where you're coming from. I really do. But you have to be careful. There are a bunch of crazy people out there." Jim was looking at him, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation.

Blair nodded and sat back down across from Jim. "I know. And we will be careful. But we have a job to do and nothing will stop us from doing it. It's too important."

Jim let out a breath. "All right, Chief. How about the calls themselves? You did report it to the police, didn't you?"

Blair avoided Jim's gaze. "Not yet. Dr. Hathaway thought they were someone's idea of a joke."

Jim's curse brought Blair's head up. "Blair, you should have reported it immediately. Whether it's a joke or not, you should cover all bases."

"Yeah, I know. I've been around you long enough to know not to take anything for granted. Give me a little credit." Blair's tone was filled with exasperation. "I convinced him we need to let someone know. He said he'd file a report."

Jim nodded. "Okay. He should have done it right after it happened, but later is better than never."

Blair got up and removed the dishes from the table. "Dr. H is pretty stubborn. It took me at least an hour to convince him it was the right thing to do."

"Powers of persuasion not what they used to be, Chief?" Jim teased.

"Ha, ha." Blair ran water in the sink.

Jim smiled, but the tension lines remained between his eyes. "You promise me that if it escalates beyond phone calls you'll let me know immediately, okay?" He stared at Blair until the younger man squirmed. "Okay?"

"Okay. I promise."

"Thanks, Chief. I worry about you. Be careful, okay?"

"Always, my friend."

* * *

The evening passed without further argument, chastising, or general dissention. Blair graded papers, and made notes on his dissertation. Jim tidied up the living room, and read the paper. Finally, at ten o'clock Jim decided to call it a night. He glanced at Blair.

"You going to bed soon?"

"Mmmm..."

"Sandburg."

Blair glanced up. "Yeah?"

"You going to bed soon?"

Blair took his glasses off and stretched. Jim forced his eyes not to follow the lines of Blair's body. "What time is it, man?"

"A little after ten."

"Yeah, I guess so. I need to get up early again tomorrow."

"Okay." Jim headed for the kitchen and turned off the lights. "I'll see you in the morning."

"'Night, Jim."

"'Night, Chief."

Blair hesitated just slightly before stripping down for bed. He'd called Jarvis Deacon that morning, and left a message on his voice mail. He and Jarvis had been friends for a long time, and his friend was now a grad student in Psych. Maybe he could help Blair figure out what the dreams meant.

Blair turned out his light, and settled into bed. A few minutes later, he was sound asleep.

* * *

_...Sounds of battle filled the air--the clash of swords, marked by the occasional volley of gunfire, all overlaid with the sounds of human suffering on an incredibly large scale._

Blair moved restlessly in his sleep. This dream was so familiar now...He knew what was coming, but was helpless to stop it...

_...Ky turned in surprise when he sensed the English soldier behind him, and gasped at the first taste of steel against his skin, when the bayonet stabbed him. He cried out with the pain as the steel pierced through him. Ian, who'd been walking just ahead of him, rushed back toward him in a panic, quickly closing the distance. _

_"Ky! No!" Ian charged the soldier, now standing over his friend, who was kneeling, clutching his stomach. "Ye murderin' bastard--" He knocked the soldier to the ground, pulled his head back by his hair, and drew his dirk across the soldier's throat. The soldier was dead before his head hit the ground. Ian turned around and knelt beside the wounded man. "Oh, God, Ky..." He clutched his friend around the shoulders. "How bad is it, mo cridh?" _

_"Bad," Ky gasped out. "I dinna think I can walk, Ian." He brought his hands away from his stomach, and stared in disbelief at the blood he found on them. Ian could feel Ky shaking beneath him. _

_"We need to get awa' from here. I need to lay ye down to look at ye." Ian stood up and looked around, considering. There was a small hollow just a bit away. "I'm goin' to need yer help, Ky--I canna carry ye alone, ye're too big. Can ye help me?" _

_Ky groaned with the pain as Ian helped him shift into a standing position. "I'll...try...Ahhhhhh." He ended the short reply with a hiss when Ian's hand brushed against the wound. "Christ, man! Dinna touch it!"_

Blair rolled his head on his pillow, and moaned with vaguely remembered pain.

_"Och, sorry--I need to bind ye up, though, Ky. Ye're bleedin' something fierce." _

_"Aye--but we havena got time. Let's get goin'. I'll do for now." Ky wobbled on his legs, and Ian put the larger man's arm over his shoulders, supporting his weight, holding him up with an arm around his waist. They managed maybe a dozen steps or so before Ky's legs gave out, and he tumbled both of them to the ground. He lay there, curled in a ball with his hands clutching at his stomach, praying for the death he knew was coming..._

Death? He was dying? No! He couldn't die...that would mean leaving--someone--alone again...

* * *

Saturday, 4/12

"Ahhh!" Blair sat up in bed with a loud gasp, heart pounding. He'd been dying! No, *he* hadn't--not Blair Sandburg, at any rate. Who was he in that dream? God, that was *so* weird! His hands were shaking, he noted, when he reached for the small bedside lamp.

Why couldn't he remember when he was awake? *Was* this a past life experience? Why have the flashbacks now? Why at all? He glanced at his clock. Four a.m. This was way to early to be waking up. He listened intently for a minute, praying he hadn't woke Jim up when he yelled, then sighed in relief when all remained quiet above stairs. He nearly jumped off the bed when a quiet voice spoke from the darkness just beyond his door.

"Chief? You okay in there?"

Damn! "Yeah, I'm fine. I just--had another dream."

"Can I come in?"

"Sure." Blair settled back onto his bed and watched Jim walk into the small room. It immediately felt even smaller. Jim had a...a *presence*, for lack of a better word. He kind of filled whatever room he was in.

Jim sat on the side of the bed. "You sure you're okay?" He reached out and patted Blair's shoulder.

"Fine." Oh, good--he'd sounded almost normal. This was all he needed--a half-naked Jim, sitting on his bed, patting his shoulder in the middle of the night. Blair snorted. Only in his dreams could it get any better than this. Of course, not if you considered the dreams he'd been having lately... "Huh?" Jim was looking at him intently, and he realized he'd missed the question.

"I'm worried about you, Chief. This is two nights in a row."

'Way more than that, actually,' Blair thought to himself. 'But I was quiet for those.' Aloud he said, "I've got a friend--he's a psych major--I'm gonna try to get in touch with. He might have some insight I'm totally overlooking. Probably just stress, man. Don't worry about it. Go on, go back to bed." Blair tried to wave Jim away, but the bigger man wasn't having any of it.

"Nah, I'm already up--might as well make use of it. Want to go get some breakfast? My treat."

"You're buying breakfast out? Sure. Where?"

Jim shrugged, an overly casual expression on his face. "Want to go to Calico's?"

Blair grinned. "You're really hooked on those crepes, aren't you?"

Jim grinned back, and threatened playfully, "Breathe a word to anyone, Sandburg, and your ass is mine."

'I wish.' "I wouldn't dream of telling a soul that big, tough Jim Ellison likes raspberry crepes. Your secret's safe with me, man." Blair rolled his eyes at the ceiling, then yelped when Jim grabbed him by the waist and began tickling him. "Hey! No fair picking on your roommate...Jim!" He sputtered as Jim started running his fingers across his ribs, and struggled to get loose.

"It is when that roommate wakes you up in the middle of the night." Jim grunted as Blair kicked out, squirming in an effort to get away from the bigger man's merciless fingers. He let go of Blair and rolled off the bed. "Get dressed, Chief. Now that I'm up, I'm hungry."

"Be ready in a few, man. Hey, close the door on your way out, okay?" Blair turned away from Jim, hoping to hide the erection that had sprung up from the unexpected contact with Jim's body. He didn't even hear Jim's reply, mind focused too intently on the memory of that hard body rubbing against his own.

He wrapped his hand around his aching flesh, and began stroking. He pictured Jim's hand around him, caressing him...bending down to kiss him, sliding his tongue in and out... Blair groaned quietly as his body convulsed, and he felt his warm seed slide over his hand. He sighed as he wiped his hand off on a towel he found in the corner of his room. It would do to relieve pressure, but it was like siphoning off a bit of steam a little at a time. If he didn't find a way to shut if off, and soon, something was going to blow.

Jim stood in the shower, leaning against the tile. He caressed himself with one hand, felt the erection surging forward. He tried to think of women he knew...had dated, slept with...but found his thoughts straying to Blair. Blair's face, mouth, hands...that mouth on him, kissing him...sucking him... Jim groaned and thrust hard against his hand, feeling the exquisite pleasure as his fluids burst from his body in a rush. No. No *way*. No way did he just come, thinking of Blair. Absolutely not. Odd thoughts about how attractive his roommate was...watching him move around the apartment, stuff like that was okay. Jerking off while imagining that perfect mouth wrapped around his cock? Jim shook his head, and finished with his shower quickly, wondering when life had suddenly spiraled out of control.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Sunday, 4/13

"Hey, Jim," Blair called as he ejected the videotape from the VCR.

"Yeah?" Jim asked, walking back from the kitchen. He handed Sandburg the other cassette, saying, "Here's the other movie we rented."

Blair took the proffered tape and inserted it into the VCR. They were spending a quiet Sunday evening, watching the two movies they had rented. Jim wanted to celebrate the end to another successful case and Blair, who had spent all day Saturday polishing swords, decided to stay home and relax. He always enjoyed these down times with Jim.

"Sandburg--what were you going to ask me?" Jim sat down on the sofa.

"Hmm? Oh. Yeah." Blair remembered his earlier thought. He scooted back until he could lean against the couch next to Jim. Hitting the mute button as the previews played, Blair spoke, "Since you don't have any pressing cases..." he trailed off, uncertain how to proceed.

"Go on," Jim prodded, watching his partner tuck a silky strand of hair behind his ear.

"Would you mind if I didn't come into the station this week? I really need to get some work done, man. What with the exhibit and all, things have really piled up." Blair turned wide, blue eyes on the detective.

Ellison felt a stab of resentment. 'This damned exhibit is really beginning to bug me. Can't wait for it to be over so that I can have my Guide back,' he thought and then frowned. Blair wasn't something that was his to have. When had he gotten so possessive of the younger man? Wait. He wasn't possessive of Blair. 'It's just that I depend on him to help me with my senses. Back me up.' Jim switched off the alarm in his head that had been triggered by his thoughts. He was suddenly aware of Blair's intense gaze upon his face.

Jim shrugged, nonchalantly. "Sure, Sandburg, I don't think I'll need you too much this week. You go ahead and work at the university."

"Are you sure, Jim?" Blair pressed. He didn't want any misunderstanding between them. The discussion about friendship on the way to Daryl's birthday party had been less than a week ago. It was still fresh in Blair's mind and it was one of the reasons he'd suggested that they rent movies and spend a quiet night at home. Blair didn't want to disrupt the peace which had settled over both of them. Tension was something that Jim didn't need so he patiently waited for Jim's reply.

"Go for it, Chief. It should be a slow week." Jim leaned back slightly, relaxing. "Movie's about to start."

Startled, Blair swung his head around toward the television. He pushed the mute button and the Scottish burr of Mel Gibson filtered from the speakers. Blair smiled. He'd been wanting to see this movie again.

* * *

Monday, 4/14

Blair hurried into Jarvis' office. He hated running late, and it seemed like more and more that was all he was doing. He smiled at his friend, and said breathlessly, "Sorry--got caught in traffic."

Jarvis smiled back, and Blair wondered why it was he never could love this man as more than a friend. Jarvis was probably the most beautiful man he'd ever seen--next to Jim. He smiled at the thought and shook his head.

"Have a seat, Blair. How you been, man?"

"Fine, Jarv. You?" Blair sat down in the chair next to Jarvis' desk, noticing that his friend was as messy as he was. Peas in a pod. He shook his head again, and Jarvis caught the motion.

"What's up?"

"Just a thought, man. Never mind."

"No...tell me. What're you shaking your head for?" Jarvis swiveled his chair, and poured two cups of coffee from the pot behind him. He turned back around and handed one to Blair. "C'mon, Bear...what is it?"

Blair blushed and smiled at the forgotten nickname. "Just thoughts about the past."

"You mean about us." It wasn't a question, and Jarvis wasn't teasing any more.

"Yeah." Blair took a swallow of his coffee. "How come I couldn't love you?" he blurted out, tension from the dream destroying his ability to verbally spar. God, he was tired!

Jarvis raised an eyebrow. "I thought we settled this about six years ago."

"Yeah--we did. But I mean, how come I couldn't then? I liked you a lot...we had great sex together... What was missing, Jarv?" Blair furrowed his brow, trying to remember why he and Jarvis had parted ways romantically--and how they'd managed to stay friends.

"I wasn't the right person for you. You knew that, on some level. You're waiting for someone, Blair. You've always been waiting for this person, and you'll know them when you find them."

"Are you sure?"

"About what?"

"That I'll know them."

"Why do you ask that?" Jarvis steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. Blair grinned; his friend looked so like the 'typical' college professor.

"Well, 'cause I'm pretty sure I found that person...but they don't know it."

"You're being awfully careful with your pronouns, Bear. What is it you're not telling me?"

Blair sighed and looked down at the coffee cup. "My roommate, Jim." He looked up at Jarvis. "Man...he's the greatest. Personality, looks, intelligence...a body to die for; I'd do anything for him."

"Sounds like you're in love with him. But?"

"But what?"

"That's what I want you to tell me."

Blair sighed again, and closed his eyes. "I am in love with him--or falling fast, which pretty much amounts to the same thing. But Jarv, man, Jim Ellison is the *straightest* guy you'd ever meet. No *way* is he gonna fall in love with another man--especially not a college grad student. I'm like at the top of the 'no can-do' list."

Jarvis grimaced in sympathy. "That's rough, man. You don't think you can talk to him about it at all?"

Blair shook his head. "Not about this. I don't want to risk our friendship. He means too much to me. I'd rather just love him and be around him as a friend, then to not have him at all-no matter how much it drives me crazy." Blair looked up. "Sorry, man. Didn't mean to dump all of this on you."

Jarvis laughed gently. "Hey, what're friends for?" He sobered then. "What's the real reason you're here, Blair? I know I don't see you often enough to judge anymore, but you look stressed, man. If it's the roommate thing we can still talk, of course, but it's deeper than that, isn't it?

Blair nodded, grateful that Jarvis still knew him so well. "Yeah. I've been having...Gods, this sounds too weird to even say out loud." Blair ran a hand through his curls.

"Go on."

"A dream, Jarv. Except it's not like any other dream I've ever had. It's got me weirded out in a major way."

"Like how? I mean, what's the dream about?"

Blair sighed. "It's complicated. And I get more details every time I have it. It's like... I'm watching someone die in this dream, and at the same time *I'm* feeling everything. The pain, the sadness...all of it! Too weird." Blair shook his head, remembering waking up countless times now, clutching at his stomach in alarm.

Jarvis looked at him curiously. "You can *feel* in the dream?"

"Yeah. So?"

"You don't generally feel physical stuff in a dream, Blair. I think--" The phone on Jarvis' desk rang, and he held a finger up. "Hold that thought." Jarvis picked up the receiver. "Jarvis Deacon, can I help you?"

Blair watched his friend's face move from happy to concerned, and sighed. Well, whatever his dream meant, they weren't going to cover it today. Jarvis hung up the phone. "That was a student I've been working with--I need to get over to the Crisis Center right away. Can you come back later?" Jarvis stood up and Blair did the same, shaking his head as he did so.

"Not today, man. Too much goin' on."

Jarvis frowned. "I don't like to leave you hangin', Bear, but this student is high risk. Hey! How 'bout dinner tonight? Come on over; I'll cook for you, you can tell me about the dream."

Blair mentally ran through his calendar for the day, and crossed his fingers that he wasn't forgetting something. "Sure. What time?"

"Seven?"

"Sounds good. Still on High View Street?"

Jarvis nodded and smiled, "Same old ugly house."

Blair laughed. "That works then, man. Thanks."

"I'm sorry I can't do it now, Blair. I'll see you at seven."

Blair gave Jarvis a grin, then headed out the door for the parking lot. He didn't have any classes today, so he was going to go home and start working through the monster load of papers he had.

* * *

Blair arrived at Jarvis' house about ten minutes early. He hadn't had a lot of free time lately, and given his recent obsession with the exhibit, 'Jim's opinion, not mine,' his brain added; he'd been hesitant all day to work on it. After calling to let his roommate know he wouldn't be home for dinner, Blair had gone back to the loft and actually did some work on his dissertation. *That* had felt good.

He knocked on the door, and recoiled slightly in surprise when Michael Patterson opened the door.

"Hey, man, what're you doin' here?"

Michael grinned at Blair's expression. "I live here, Blair. C'mon in--Jarv's got dinner about ready."

Blair shook his head as he stepped through the door. He followed Michael down the hall toward the kitchen, nose wrinkling appreciatively. "Lasagna," he guessed with some satisfaction. Jarvis was still one of the best cooks he'd ever known...most of what he knew about cooking he'd learned from his friend.

Michael nodded. "Veggie--hope that's okay with you. Jarv got a new recipe last week."

Blair sniffed deeply and smiled. "Fine by me, man."

They walked into the kitchen where the air was redolent with Italian spices and the smell of fresh baked bread. Blair took another deep breath, and let it out, sighing with pleasure. Jarvis smiled a greeting at him, but glowed in Michael's direction, and Blair made the immediate connection.

"Hey, since when are you two seeing each other?"

Michael and Jarvis exchanged looks and Jarvis answered, "About four months now."

Blair shook his head. "Man, I am like so out of touch with some of the gossip. I'm gonna have to start listening to my students more often." His eyes sparkled mischievously. "So...picked out patterns yet?"

Michael blushed and Jarvis gave him a silly grin. "As a matter of fact..."

"You son-of-a-gun! Well, congrats, guys." Blair embraced Jarvis and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then turned and hugged Michael. "When did this happen?" he asked when he pulled back.

"I only asked him last night." Jarvis sounded kind of awed by the whole thing. Blair couldn't blame him--this was a major commitment his friend was talking about.

Michael spoke up then, "Want a beer, Blair?" and Blair could see he was still a little uncomfortable with discussing the relationship.

"Yeah, thanks, Michael." Blair sat down at the kitchen table. It was nice to see friends happy--and happy together was even better. Michael handed him the beer, then excused himself. Blair took a drink, then looked up at Jarvis. "How long's he been out?" he asked his friend softly.

Jarvis smiled. "Since we started dating."

Blair shook his head, a grin breaking out on his face. "What *is* it about you? Me, Michael...who else, man?"

Jarvis pasted an innocent look on his face. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Bear. I'm just minding my own business."

Blair snorted in amusement, nearly choking on the swallow of beer he'd just taken. When he'd regained his voice he said, "Yeah, right. You're like the poster child for Gay America, man. 'Declare and be free', and all that."

"Didn't lead you astray, did I?"

"No, but I'm bi, and you know that's different. Anyway, I didn't say you did." Blair smiled at his friend. "I'm just giving you a hard time, Jarv, 'cause it seems like everyone you date ends up 'coming out' at some point in the relationship."

"Must be my winning personality."

"Must be." Blair rolled his eyes.

Jarvis turned to the oven and opened it. The pleasant odor of baking lasagna wafted through the room, and Blair's stomach growled. He blushed slightly when Jarvis turned to look at him. "You'll be glad to hear it's done," the other man informed him dryly.

"Good--I'm starved. Missed lunch somewhere along the line. Can I do anything?"

"Yeah--grab the bread, would you?" Jarvis pulled the hot dish out of the oven, and headed for the dining room.

Blair nodded to his back and followed him, basket of fresh hot bread in one hand, beer in the other. Michael joined them shortly, and the three men tore into the meal.

Dinner was dispatched efficiently, with comfortable small talk throughout. Blair and Jarvis teased each other with the familiarity of old friends, and kept Michael amused with stories of their freshman year chemistry class. Blair soon had Michael totally at ease with the non-academic side of himself, and enjoyed getting to know on a more personal level the man who'd caught an old friend's heart--for good.

After dinner Michael left to meet some friends for a game of basketball, giving Blair and Jarvis some privacy to discuss Blair's dream. The two men took care of the dishes first, Blair washing and Jarvis drying and putting away; then settled on the comfortable sofa with coffee. Blair looked at Jarvis, a question in his eyes. "So, what now? I've never had a dream like this before--what do you want to know?"

"Well, start by telling me about the dream...and how long you've had it. Does it change at all, or is it the same dream? Are you watching, or participating? You said that you can feel during it--what are you feeling: physical or emotional, or both."

Blair watched his friend sit back with a note pad, and was struck by the incongruity of the situation. No wonder Jim got grumpy sometimes. It was disconcerting to be considered a research subject. He made a mental note to be a little more considerate of Jim's feelings in the future, then leaned back into the sofa and began to talk.

He described the dream, and how it varied slightly in detail-but never changed overall. He'd had them--it--for a couple of weeks now, and he was always a participant, experiencing the events that were happening. *He'd* felt love for the man called Ian. He'd felt Ian's kisses, his touches. He'd felt the bayonet stabbing into his stomach, and his blood flowing from his body. Felt that body growing cold...

"Blair? Blair, you in there?" Jarvis was waving a hand in front of his face.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry, man. The memory is just totally too intense." Blair shivered.

Jarvis studied him intently. "You just said 'memory'. It sounds like a past life experience, Blair. Dreams can mean things, of course, but they're not usually that detailed, all the way through."

"Yeah, but *why*, man? Why now?"

"Is there anything going on in your life that's different than usual? Something that could have triggered a buried memory?"

Blair snorted. "My life doesn't subscribe to 'usual', Jarvis. I go with Jim, and do the police thing. There's nothing ordinary about that. It's so un-ordinary that it's become ordinary."

Jarvis considered him. "What about at school? You're involved in the exhibit, right? Running it, if I'm not mistaken. That's not ordinary."

Blair stared off into space for a moment, thinking about how he'd been totally swept up into the exhibit. "The exhibit is the only thing in my life that's different. Do you think there's something about that that's triggering this? What do I do, if this is a past life memory like you think?"

"I know someone you could talk to, Blair. He's a former prof of mine, who's in private practice now. He does regression hypnosis--which I think you should consider. It would at least confirm if it's your own memory of another life." Jarvis sat back on the couch and watched his friend.

Blair's only reply was to raise an eyebrow, and Jarvis sighed. "What, Bear? His name is Grant. Grant Thomas, and he's a fully certified psychotherapist. He's trained in hypnosis, and does quite a bit of regression therapy. Past life stuff is a little over my head, or I'd do it for you."

"You're sure I can trust this guy?"

Jarvis nodded, "With your life, man. However many there are."

Blair stared at him for a minute, then started laughing at the joke. Jarvis grinned back at him. "More coffee, Bear?"

Blair stood and stretched. "Nah--I need to get going; have to sub in a class tomorrow, and I need to read over the material so I know what I'm talking about."

Jarvis stood too. "Yeah, it's always good to not look like a fool in front of the class." He handed Blair a piece of paper. "Here's Grant's phone number and address. Give him a call tomorrow--he'll probably be able to work you in, just make sure you tell him I referred you; otherwise you may still be waiting for an appointment come Christmas."

Blair smiled, and leaned over to hug Jarvis. "Thanks, man. I appreciate this."

"You're more than welcome, Blair. I'm glad I could help at all. Wish I could do more."

"Take care of Michael--he's a cool kid."

"Yeah, I know." Jarvis walked Blair to the front door, and pushed it open. "Let me know how it goes, okay? With the regression...and the roommate."

"Will do. See ya round, man."

"'Bye, Blair."

Blair jogged down the steps that led from Jarvis' house to the street where he'd parked, the paper with Dr. Thomas' number crinkling in his pocket as he went. He'd call first thing tomorrow--maybe then he could start to get some answers.

* * *

Tuesday, 4/15

Blair strode rapidly across the parking lot toward his office. A light mist drifted past his face and he could see the branches of nearby trees swaying in the wind; their leaves flowing to and fro. The sky was a pale blue-gray lighted ever so slightly by the sun partially hidden behind darkening clouds. "April showers..." He muttered as he ran the last few steps to the building. The young man had just managed to step under the awning of the anthro building when a crack of thunder filled his ears and the clouds opened up.

He hefted the umbrella and was thankful Jim had forced it into his hands this morning. Yesterday had been bright and warm and Blair had been skeptical for the need of one. No mention of a storm had been talked about in the weather forecast, either. His Sentinel, however, had told him otherwise, saying that he could smell it. Blair never questioned Jim's senses and he took the umbrella. He was now glad he did. No telling how long a Cascade storm would last. It could be over in minutes or, like the time he and Jim and to save a kidnapped Simon from Quinn, a few days. Blair smiled and walked down the hallway to his office. "Cold and wet is my world," he said, softly.

"Couldn't agree with you more," a voice spoke up. "Looks like they sucked up all the water in the Sound and dumped it here. We're going to need a rowboat to get home this afternoon."

Blair chuckled along with the newcomer. "Hey, Sarina. You're here early."

The blonde nodded as they continued toward the stairs. "I'm really anxious to get to work and since I have a class this afternoon, I came in early. Glad I did. If I'd come later I'd probably would have gotten drenched. There was no mention of any storm."

Blair glanced at her as they walked down the stairs. "Yeah. It was pretty sudden."

Sarina indicated the umbrella. "You came prepared, though."

He grinned. "A friend of mine had a feeling."

Sarina walked toward the crate she'd been working on last week. "A feeling, huh? People make fortunes with feelings like that."

Blair watched her pry the lid open and pull out a large pottery figurine. "I'll tell him."

They smiled at each other and went to work.

* * *

A few hours later, Blair jerked his head up at the sound of thunder. The rain had stopped, but now lightening licked the sky. It was going to rain again. Thunder rolled once more and the rain began to fall, hitting the windows in a slow, steady rhythm.

"There it goes again," Sarina said from above him.

Blair glanced up from his sitting position on the floor. Sarina was looking down at him. In one fluid motion, she was kneeling next to Blair. She leaned forward and tucked an errant strand of hair behind his ear.

Blair swallowed. Sarina was leaning in pretty close, invading his personal space. Her eyes blazed with something he hadn't seen before--or at least hadn't noticed. "Uh, Sarina," he began tentatively.

Sarina smiled, her eyes half closed.

Blair knew then that Sarina meant to kiss him. He felt helpless to stop it. Sarina was a nice girl and he didn't want to hurt her. He cursed inwardly. He should have seen the signs earlier.

Blair was shocked out of his reverie. Sarina's face was mere inches from his own. He tried again. "Sarina--" He was cut off as Sarina's lips descended. He opened his mouth to protest and Sarina took the opportunity to roam the inside of his mouth with her tongue. A bolt of lightening accompanied by a loud bang of thunder caused the lights to flicker and go out.

Blair tried to push Sarina away when he felt her hands on his chest. Under the cover of darkness, soft hands slipped inside his shirt, and he gasped as she brushed his nipple. He felt it harden and he moaned into her mouth. His nipples were a definite erogenous zone for him. Blair imagined for a moment that it was Jim teasing and pinching and he moaned louder.

"Like that, do you?" Sarina's husky voice floated to him.

Blair froze as the lights flickered again. "Sarina, stop. We can't do this."

"Yes, we can, Blair. You want this. I can tell. Look, why don't you come over to my place for dinner tonight. We'd have a real good time." Sarina said seductively, and leaned in to kiss him again.

The lights flickered on and Blair stared into her eyes. He pushed here away and stood. There would be no more kissing. "No, Sarina. No more. I-I'm not interested."

"That's not how it felt to me!" Sarina was suddenly angry. She rose to her feet and glared at Blair. "You seemed pretty responsive."

"I'm sorry. Really, I am. Things weren't meant to get out of hand." Blair felt helpless. Why did these things always happen to him?

Sarina stared at him for a moment. With a sigh, the tension left her body and she slumped. Her head bent forward, she whispered, "No. It's me who should apologize, Blair. I shouldn't have pushed it. I knew you didn't like me in that way or you'd have noticed by now."

"It's okay. No harm done. It happens to the best of us." Blair thought of his own situation, and sympathized with her. "Can we still be friends?"

Sarina's head snapped up. "You want us to still be friends with? Work together?"

He nodded. "Yeah. You don't expect me to do this all by myself, do you?" He waved absently toward the crates.

Sarina smiled, relief evident in her eyes. "No, I don't expect you to do this all by yourself. Guess we'd better get back to work, huh?"

"Good idea." Blair turned back to the crate he was working out of.

"Hey, Blair?" Sarina spoke. Blair glanced at her over his shoulder. "Thanks."

He smiled. "No problem."

They worked for a few hours longer before Sarina had to leave for her afternoon classes, and Blair for his p.m. lecture.

* * *

Wednesday, 4/16

Blair parked the Corvair on the street in front of the house. He'd already figured out from the area that it was residential--the guy must work out of his home. It was a nice looking house...regression therapy must pay well. Blair snickered. No wonder there were so many psych majors-it obviously paid better than anthro did.

Jarvis had been right--until Blair mentioned his friend's name the good doctor had been ready to schedule him for sometime later in the summer. A quick comment about being referred by Jarvis had freed up an appointment today--Tuesday afternoon-only though, the doctor explained, because he'd had a cancellation.

The man who answered the door didn't look at all like Blair had imagined someone named Grant Thomas would look. He looked more like...well, like himself. Sort of neo-hippie. Blair felt better already.

"Dr. Thomas?"

"Hi--you must be Blair?"

"Yeah, that's me. Nice to meet you." Blair stuck his hand out, and Dr. Thomas grasped it.

"Come in, come in." He gestured Blair through the door, and closed it behind them. "So, Jarvis sent you to me, hmm?"

"Yes, he did."

"He called me early yesterday before you did, and mentioned that you'd probably be calling. He didn't say what the problem is, just that you're pretty shaken up."

"Yeah. Well, I don't know. I mean, shaken's maybe not the right word--more like it's really bugging me. I'm curious, but I'm kind of freaked out by it all the same. It's really weird. I understand, and believe in the past life/reincarnation thing...but to think it's going on inside my own head--man, that's like so bizarre."

"Tell me about the dream, and what you experienced during it."

So, for the second time in as many days, Blair found himself talking about his dreams of the last week. Dr. Thomas listened quietly, using a tape recorder rather than a notebook. He asked occasional questions, but let Blair do most of the talking. Blair wound down by telling him what Jarvis had said about being hypnotized to remember the details--to remember the life.

"Do you want to be hypnotized, Blair?"

"If it'll help me figure out what's going on, yeah."

"Regression hypnosis is something that takes some time. It's not a 'find out your life history in one easy step' type of thing. This could takes weeks, or months."

Blair held up his hands. "Whoa, man. I just want to find out about this one life. Not all --if there are more-- of them. Just this one, and who Ian is." 'Because I'm starting to have an idea.'

"You believe Ian is someone important to you in this life, don't you?"

Blair looked at Dr. Thomas, a suspicious frown on his face. "Hey, man, are you psychic, too? That's *way* too spooky. I was just thinking..."

"Blair, oftentimes we have the same group of souls in most of our lives. They are different people generally, but sometimes they repeat a role in our life. For instance, the soul who is your mother now, may also have been your mother in another life. Jarvis could have been your brother at some point. See what I'm getting at?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know all that, man. Ian is--I know someone right now who reminds me of the glimpses I've seen of him in my dreams. Someone I...have feelings for." Blair looked down at his hands, then back up again.

Dr. Thomas smiled reassuringly and reached for a pad of paper and a pen this time. "I need to get some additional information about your background, then we'll talk some about the hypnosis process, and I'll answer any questions you have."

"You're not going to hypnotize me today?"

"No--I need to get the information from you, and you need to get to know me. Hypnosis is something that works best if there's an element of trust present; if you don't feel comfortable with me, then we're not going to get very good results."

"Oh." Blair was quiet for a minute, considering Thomas' words. "What if I said I trust you because Jarvis told me I can?"

Dr. Thomas smiled. "Then I would say you're a very trusting individual...but that we're still not going to do it today, because I don't have the time with this session. A hypnosis session is longer than a 'regular' session; we have to have more time to explore whatever you're finding."

Blair nodded; that made sense. "Do you have any more openings this week then that we can do the hypnosis?"

Dr. Thomas gave Blair a look he had trouble interpreting. "Why are you pushing so hard with this?"

Blair shook his head. "I don't know...but I almost feel as if I *have* to. Like unlocking secrets--I have to have the answer because time is running out. I can't explain it, but it's a feeling inside of me that I've had ever since I started having the dreams. Almost as if I'm like being warned or something. You know--like a Star Trek show where there's parallel universes, and one of the incarnations shows up to one of the other ones and tells the Captain what they have to do to avoid something from happening that's gonna affect the whole space-time continuum? That's how I feel right now. Totally on edge."

The doctor was silent for a long moment, just watching Blair, eyes searching the young man's face. Finally he stood up, exhaling in a big sigh. "I have some time on Friday if you can come by--we can start the hypnosis then. Mind you, I'd still prefer to have a couple of sessions before beginning the regression, but..." he trailed off and shrugged his shoulders. "How can I resist a plea like that?"

Blair smiled at him and pocketed the appointment card.

* * *

Wednesday night, 4/16

Like a beacon in the night, only one light blazed from a building on campus, lighting a dark corner. It was well past midnight and the community enjoyed the nocturnal stillness.

Blair strode purposefully around the lighted room, making notes in a small notebook. He absently paused, pushing at his glasses which had carelessly slipped down his nose. He scanned the room, noting the progress they'd made in almost three weeks of constant work. His eyes were drawn to the two mannequins in the corner. One was dressed in the old British military uniform; the other in the Scottish kilt. If he concentrated, he could almost feel the tension and, for a moment, the sounds of sword upon flesh, bayonets clanging and bagpipes wailing filled his ears.

He closed his eyes and was back in his dream. The battlefield strewn with the sacrifices to the gods of war laid itself across closed eyelids. Among the stains of blood and death cries, knelt one figure cradling a lifeless one. Blair choked back a sob and opened his eyes, trying to eradicate the vision. That particular dream always ended that way and it brought him such pain, as if his heart had been squeezed like an overripe peach. Blair was beginning to understand its significance. He hoped his regression hypnosis therapy session on Friday with Dr. Thomas would yield results. After his initial meeting this afternoon with the doctor, Blair had high hopes of coming to grips with his dreams.

'Day after tomorrow, maybe I'll find out how *real* my dreams are.' Blair took a deep breath. He moved closer to the life-like figures and brushed lightly at the Scottish uniform still remembering. He really couldn't wait to meet Dr. Thomas and settle this.

Moving away, he spied the latest delivery for the exhibit. It was the biggest shipment by far and Dr. Hathaway's pride and joy. The Egyptian artifacts--minus one more piece that would be here at the last minute--were central to the exhibit and he had been holding himself back from delving into the crates. He knew treasures awaited him under the closed lids, but he was going to wait for the museum pieces to be delivered on Friday. It would be easier to process and arrange all the Egyptian segments at once.

Coordinating this part of the exhibit was the most difficult because it was the central piece and had the largest number of artifacts. In addition, Dr. Osaka had not made any provisions for it because of her sudden departure to Japan. It left Blair holding the bag and he had to make most of the arrangements-some at the last minute. Procuring the Great Exhibition Hall had severely tested Blair's diplomacy skills. At first, Dr. Hathaway had meant to showcase the exhibit in the large basement which also doubled as a gallery. Blair had nixed that idea almost immediately. It would take time and people, but they would get all the artifacts upstairs to the GEH.

The anthropologist was going to be busier than he had ever been. He had his work cut out for him. Between lecturing and grading; the exhibit, and working with Jim, he felt pulled in too many different directions.

'Not that I've been such a great help to Jim lately,' he mused. 'He's probably forgotten what I look like.' A flash a guilt almost made him wince. He hadn't seen Jim very much in the first two days, had barely spoken to him beyond the early morning courtesies. Their pleasant evening spent together watching movies a few nights ago seemed but a dream now. Blair decided that he would leave early tomorrow and make dinner.

The line of friendship was becoming hazy and Blair didn't know how much longer he could keep himself together. His feelings for Jim had always been complex. Because of the sentinel abilities and Blair's role as guide, the younger man was privy to Jim's inner self, and the relationship borne out of such knowledge left him closer to Jim Ellison than most. Now, though, Blair had unconsciously brought the relationship to another more intimate level. Or, rather, that's where he wanted it brought. He wouldn't ruin their friendship over it, though. He would leave Jim first before that happened. An almost physical pain erupted in his chest over that thought and he took in a few calming breaths. He could never leave Jim.

Blair was startled out of his musings by a loud thump from above. The young man froze and his eyebrows crinkled in concentration. It was that noise again. The one he thought he'd imagined the last time he was alone with the artifacts.

'Who could it be?' Blair wondered. Unbidden, the answer came to him. 'Whoever's threatening the exhibit, you idiot.' Trepidation played along Blair's nerves like a fine tune on a violin. He wished suddenly that Jim were here, but it was his fault he wasn't.

Blair grimaced and his thoughts drifted back to yesterday...

He'd just gotten back from his afternoon lecture and was settling into his chair when a knock sounded at his office door. Without bothering to look up, he called, "Come in."

It was Karen and she handed Blair an envelope. He looked at it, puzzled. The envelope had no return address or postmark-just his name and department in bold, typewritten letters.

With a scholar's curiosity, Blair tore open the envelope. A frown marred his handsome features as he read the contents of the note. It seemed the phone calls weren't enough. Disgusted, Blair crumpled the note in disgust and heaved it across the room toward the trash can.

A shuffling noise above him brought the young man back to the present once again. He frowned at his own foolishness. He'd blown off the note, thinking it was a cheap scare tactic. Blair realized with sudden clarity that he was probably in danger, and cursed himself again for breaking his promise to Jim. He hadn't mentioned the note to the detective. He'd totally forgotten about it.

He strained to hear movement and not for the first time wished for Jim's sentinel abilities. The only thing he heard was his heart beating triple time with fear. His situation was grim. There was no phone in the basement and he'd left his backpack with his cell phone in his office.

Apprehensively, Blair ducked down behind one of the newer crates. The basement was suddenly plunged into darkness. He felt along the floor hoping for something to use as a weapon. His fingers touched the crowbar, and he grasped it, relieved. He rose slightly to peer around the crate. Someone was out there and that was bad news. Despite the fear coursing through his veins, the young man tiptoed forward and tried to peer around the box. It was too dark for him to make out anyone. Gripping the crowbar hard, he wondered what to do next. A movement to his left startled him and he swung around, the crowbar slicing through the air. Adrenaline surging through his body, he risked rising into a half-standing position.

Out of nowhere, the wooden African mask appeared, floating gently in the air. It's grotesquely gaping mouth seemed to reach forward to eat him. Blair swung the crowbar like a baseball bat, but he missed the spectral mask. His eyes widened in shock as the wooden carving came toward him. Having no time to throw his arms up to protect himself, it connected with his head with a sharp crack, and blackness descended.

* * *

Jim Ellison landed hard on the floor, gasping. Cold beads of sweat slipped down his hot skin over tense muscles. He lifted a trembling hand to pull himself up and back into bed. Jim didn't know how long the nightmare had held him in its tight grip, nor could he remember what it was about. All he knew was that it had disturbed him, badly.

He eased himself onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Jim hadn't had a nightmare in a long time. The Sentinel could hear his own heart racing and his blood pounding. Unconsciously following the instructions of his Guide, Jim began to take deep breaths. In moments, the breathing exercises had settled his thumping heart and his nerves.

It was then that he realized that he only heard his heartbeat. No other existed in the loft where there should have been one. Frowning, Jim glanced at his clock. The digital display read two in the morning. Blair should have been home hours ago.

Where the hell was he?

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Thursday morning, 4/17

"Blair?" called an anxious voice, distantly. "Blair, honey, wake up."

Blair moaned and shifted, trying to get away from the water drifting into his ears. Eyes still closed, he wiped awkwardly at his face and found the wet washcloth lying against his forehead. He groaned and moved the cloth, seeking to remove the source of the water dribbling down the side of his face and into his hair.

Blair groaned again and struggled to obey the command. His head ached painfully, throbbing with each beat of his heart. Slowly, his eyelids raised and he stared fuzzily at his savior.

"There. That's better." Sarina sat back on her heels, her eyes never leaving Blair's face.

"Sarina?" Blair choked out as he tried to raise himself from his prone position on the floor. Soft hands held him down.

"Yeah, it's me. I think you should rest a bit before you try to get up. You've got a nasty bump on the head."

Blair managed a slight nod without driving more spikes of pain through his brain. He took a few deep calming breaths, trying to stop the room from spinning. "Sarina?" he whispered. "What time is it?"

Sarina appeared startled by the question. Looking at her watch, she replied, "It's almost six in the morning."

"I've been out that long?" Blair was incredulous.

Sarina shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know how long you've been out. I just got here. Wanted to get started early. What happened to you?" She was still looking at Blair concerned.

The young man finally made it into a sitting position. Rubbing the top of his head where a bump had already formed, he answered, "I was working late and I heard a noise. Next thing I know someone's hitting me over the head with one of the African masks. It happened hours ago."

Sarina's eyes widened in horror. Before Blair could react, she'd thrown her arms around him and clutched him to her chest. "Oh my God, Blair. You could have been killed. We've got to report this to the police."

The mention of the police brought forth another groan from Blair. He wasn't going to tell Jim about this. Blair wasn't in the mood for an "I-told-you-so" speech which he would get for not reporting the threatening note.

Blair realized he was still enfolded in Sarina's embrace. Gently, he disentangled himself from her arms and slowly rose to his feet. "No. We're not going to report this. It would only cause trouble for the exhibit which is what the attacker probably wants." If Blair didn't report it, Jim wouldn't find out.

Sarina stood and looked at him doubtfully. "Assuming the attack had anything to do with the exhibit."

Blair threw his arms in a wide gesture. "It's gotta be related to the exhibit. It's too much of a coincidence." If he'd learned anything from Jim, it was that here was no such thing as a coincidence. In light of the note he'd received, Blair knew it was all tied together.

Sarina was still looking at him and Blair noticed the adoration shining in her eyes. She was so obviously in love with him. Blair wondered how he could have been so blind. 'Man,' he thought to himself. 'Am *I* that obvious about Jim?" He certainly hoped not. Blair did not handle rejection well and therefore, tried to keep his relationships light. It had worked with Emily and Molly and even Sam, but he knew it wouldn't work with Jim. They already had a close friendship. He shook his head, trying to clear the spell he always found himself in when he thought about Jim. Blair winced as pain lanced through his head. Maybe a few hours sleep back at the loft would help. He'd come back to work later.

"Blair, are you okay?" Sarina asked the quiet anthropologist.

He smiled. "Yeah, I'm fine. Look, go ahead and get started. I'm going to go home and catch a few Z's."

She nodded. "Okay. You sure we shouldn't report it?"

Blair pondered the question. It really wasn't right for him to not report the incident. He was hesitant about going to Major Crimes. Somehow, breaking and entering didn't seem to fall under that category. "If it makes you feel better, I'll report it to the campus police--let them deal with it."

Sarina nodded. "It would probably be a good idea."

The young man walked toward the door and paused. "It'll be okay, Sarina. I'll tell campus security that someone broke in here, but if you're worried about being here alone, don't be. I can hear some of the staff already. You know old Mrs. Chalmers likes to be here before Dean Verastique and he's always early. Besides, Michael should be here soon. He said he'd be in by seven."

Sarina smiled. "Both Mrs. Chalmers and Dean Verastique came in at the same time that I did."

"All right," Blair replied. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"Rest, Blair. That's what you need. I'll see you later." Sarina's voice held compassion.

At the door, Blair turned and eyed the petite figure. Sarina really was quite pretty. She was also very intelligent, with a caring nature. 'Why couldn't I fall in love with her?' Blair asked himself. She was perfect for him, but she wasn't Jim. "Later, Sarina." He turned and left.

Sandburg ambled slowly toward his parked car. Each step sent a sliver of pain through his skull and he briefly wondered if maybe he was concussed and should go to the hospital. He dismissed the idea. A few hours of sleep was all he needed. Now primary concern was how he was going to get past Jim without letting on how bad his head hurt.

Blair eased into the driver's seat and started the engine. He was soon on his way to the loft. "Maybe Jim will have gone to work already." Blair spoke out loud as he eased the car into his parking spot.

It was a false hope because the first thing Blair saw as he entered the loft was a glowering, unshaven Jim Ellison.

"Where the *hell* have you been?" Jim asked in a tightly controlled voice.

Blair froze like a deer caught in headlights. That's how he felt faced with the probing glare of his detective roommate. The pounding in his head increased and he looked longingly toward his bedroom with its nice warm bed. "Jim, can't this wait until later? I'm beat, man. All I wanna do is crash for a few hours."

"Didn't get much sleep last night, did you?" Jim asked. At Blair's tentative shrug, he continued, "Well neither did I, Sandburg, and until you tell me where the hell you *were*, you're *still* not going to get any." Jim folded his arms.

Blair released a pain-laden sigh. Jim heard it and frowned. "What happened? Are you okay?"

The younger man mentally kicked himself for giving himself away. "I'm fine, Jim. Just tired. I was at the university working--"

Jim interrupted him, sarcastically, "--on the exhibit. Yeah, yeah. Seems I've heard that before. God, Chief, do you think it would have killed you to call me and let me know?"

'No,' Blair thought guiltily.

Jim went on. "All the stuff we've been through...I was imagining all sorts of things."

"Hey, man, I'm sorry. I meant to call." Blair looked contrite. He had been planning to call Jim until the crack to his head changed his plans for the night. "I really did. Guess I got busy and lost track of time. I promise to call next time."

Jim took a step toward him. "It's a promise you'd better keep Chief, because next time I might not handle the situation as calmly. I almost had an APB put out on you."

Blair nodded and licked his lips. This was calm? He'd hate to see Jim *really* worked up... He spoke, "Why didn't you?"

Jim shrugged. "I knew you'd be working on the exhibit. You've been eating, drinking, and sleeping it for weeks. And you did mention the possibility of working late when I called about dinner yesterday."

Blair sighed. "I'm really sorry, Jim."

Jim allowed a slight smile to play about his lips. "Yeah, okay. Make it up to me. Meet me for lunch."

Blair smiled back and his headache diminished slightly. "Sounds like a plan, man. Pick me up from the anthro building."

"Sure, Chief. I'll be there about one o'clock. Now I'd better shave and get to the station. Paperwork calls," Jim said as he turned to the bathroom.

Blair laughed before calling to the retreating back, "One's fine. See ya then."

"All right, Chief." Jim closed the bathroom door.

Blair was already asleep when Jim left for work twenty minutes later.

* * *

"Really, Chief, when I suggested lunch, I was thinking of steak, not rabbit food." Jim signaled left before turning the Expedition onto the college campus.

Blair was smiling. He'd been smiling since Jim picked him up almost two hours ago. "Come on, Jim. I've been wanting to try that new vegetarian restaurant. Besides, roughage is good for your diet."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Roughage, right, whatever. You just better use the spray and not the cedar chips, Chief. I don't need any splinters."

Blair was still laughing when Jim parked in front of the anthropology building.

"You going to be home early tonight?" Jim asked as the other man's laughter ceased.

"Yeah, I'll be home about ten." Blair got out of the car and closed the door. He looked thoughtful as he stuck his head in through the open passenger window. "Hey, you wanna come see some of the artifacts?"

Jim considered the suggestion. It would be nice to be allowed a look into Blair's world. It wasn't very often he got to experience anthropology the way Blair did police work. Jim nodded and the two headed for the anthropology building.

Once inside, Blair led the way down the hallway to the staircase that would lead to the basement. They had just reached it when the elevator across the hall opened and Sarina stepped out.

"Blair!" Her tone spoke obvious surprise.

The anthropologist turned, aware of Jim behind him. "Hi, Sarina. Where've you been? I came back to work on the exhibit this morning and you weren't around."

Sarina replied, "Today's Thursday, remember? I teach two classes in the morning. I had a bite for lunch and came in about one. I've been working ever since."

Blair nodded. "We must have just missed each other. I'm going down there right now to show my roommate some of the collection."

The woman glanced at the tall man behind Blair. "Oh, hi. I'm Sarina."

"Jim Ellison," the detective answered. His sentinel sense of smell sharpened as he caught the faint odor of roses. He glanced around for the source and frowned. He didn't see any flowers anywhere. There was something unnatural about it anyway; as if chemicals had been added.

"Oops, sorry." Blair looked sheepish. "I should have introduced you."

"It's okay, Chief. Let's get going. I've got to get back to work," Jim replied.

"We'll be downstairs, Sarina." Blair turned to go, then froze at Sarina's next words.

"Blair, are you okay? You weren't doing so well when I found you this morning. Maybe you should just take it easy--you know, go on home."

The Sentinel could hear Blair's heartbeat accelerate as he looked down into the face of his guide. He was about to speak when Blair turned abruptly around to face Sarina.

"I'm doing great. That thing this morning was no big deal." Blair replied, keeping his voice light.

"No big deal?" Sarina's voice was incredulous. "You said you'd been out for hours. Did you even go to the hospital to see if you had a concussion?"

Blair felt Jim stiffen behind him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Jim was already talking.

"Sarina, what *did* happen last night?" Jim asked, sounding calm and unconcerned.

Blair wasn't fooled. He could hear the steel behind the words.

The young woman was startled. "Blair didn't tell you? It was awful. Apparently, someone broke in last night and attacked him. I found him early this morning out cold on the basement floor."

Blair fought the urge to scream...or bolt. He could already tell from the tension emanating behind him that his Blessed Protector did not like what he was hearing. Jim's next words, spoken quietly, but with intensity, confirmed that.

"Guess Blair and I haven't had a chance to discuss it."

Blair broke in. "I'm okay, Sarina. Don't worry about it. Talk to you later."

Sarina nodded, still uncertain. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Ellison."

"Call me, Jim. Nice meeting you, too," Jim replied.

Sarina turned and sauntered out of the building.

A hand descended upon his shoulder and Blair swallowed. While in the presence of the lady, Jim had been deceptively mild, but Blair didn't have to turn around to know that Jim's mouth was set in a grim line, jaw muscle jumping.

"Come on, Chief. Let's go to your office." Blair didn't reply. Jim's hand was firm and unyielding as he led his Guide into the elevator that would take them to the second floor and to Blair's office.

As the elevator rose, Blair tried to turn to speak. The hand remained, keeping him firmly in place. "Jim--" he tried.

"Not now, Sandburg."

Jim steered Blair to his office. The younger man felt as if he were being marched to face a firing squad. 'Maybe I am,' he thought, dully. 'Who knows what Jim's thinking. Guess I'll find out soon enough.'

They walked into the office and Jim grabbed a chair and pulled it into the middle of the room. Blair was about to speak again when he was unceremoniously shoved into the chair. Cautiously, he shifted into a more comfortable position and looked up into Jim's worried face.

"Jim--" Blair spoke, but stopped in surprise as Jim's hands plunged into his curls. He tried to move his head away from those powerful fingers. They gently glided over his scalp, ruffling his hair. Unconsciously, Blair closed his eyes and leaned into that magic touch.

"Stay still, Sandburg," Jim muttered, strands of his guide's hair teasing sensitive fingertips. Blair's hair felt so soft; he found himself focusing on the individual strands, and the way it slid across his skin. He was pulled from his near zone-out when Blair yelped in pain.

Blair opened his eyes and looked at Jim in confusion. He'd almost let go; almost gave himself away. It was Jim's probing of the tender spot that jerked him back to reality.

Jim's fingers touched the bump on Blair's head and he winced again. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." Blair looked up at him.

Jim stepped back, a look of doubt marring his features. "Someone really did a number on you, Chief. Care to explain what happened?"

Blair nodded and told Jim about the intruder. He finished his explanation with a description of the attack.

Jim stood quietly in front of Blair, his arms folded. Finally he said, "Take me downstairs, Chief. I want to see this mask."

"Sure." Blair rose and let the way to the basement.

Jim gave a low whistle as they entered the temporary warehouse. "Seems you've gotten quite a few more artifacts since the last time I was here."

Blair nodded. "Yeah. That's why I've had to work late. Everything needs to be in order and we've only got a month left before the exhibit opens."

Jim's face darkened. "We'll discuss the exhibit and your work schedule in a minute. Right now, I want to see the mask."

Blair reached down to pick up the mask when Jim's hand on his arm stopped him. "Careful. I want to have it checked for prints."

"Jim," Blair spoke, "It wouldn't do any good. I've touched it; Sarina's touched it, and Michael's touched it."

"Still," Ellison insisted. "I want it examined."

"Jim," Blair argued, "I've already had a talk with the campus police and I'm not going to drag this out. You'd be wasting your time."

The detective's eyes narrowed. "You reported this to the campus police? What *exactly* did you tell them because I wasn't told."

Blair's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Huh? Why would anyone tell you?"

Jim replied, "If an assault report with your name on it had entered the central database, your personnel record would have been flagged and Simon would have been notified. It's standard procedure for all department personnel. So, Chief, what *did* you report?"

Blair flushed. "I reported an intruder. I didn't mention the assault."

"I see. You weren't going to say anything. Well, consider it reported, Chief. Between this attack and the phone calls, there'll be an investigation."

Blair shifted, uncomfortably. "Dr. Hathaway never reported the calls."

"What?!" Jim took a step toward him. "Damn it. I knew I should have checked. But I trusted you to do it. My mistake."

Blair flinched as the barb struck home. "I thought he'd done it, Jim. But he told me a few days ago that he forgot and it was already too late."

"It's not too late. I'm calling for backup. Having a professor attacked in his own university is cause for an investigation." Jim reached for his cell phone.

"No!" Blair exclaimed and Jim looked at him. "Jim, listen to me. It's just some protesters trying to shut down the exhibit. If we report this, the university just might do that. I can't let that happen."

"You can't let that happen?" Jim was angry. "Look, Chief. I don't give a damn about this exhibit. Do you realize you could have been killed?!" Jim's voice cracked on the last word.

Blair nodded, ignoring the emotion in Jim's tone. "Yeah, I know, but I wasn't. I can't risk the exhibit. It's too important."

"You'd rather risk your life, is that it?" Jim growled. "Well, I'm not going to let you. You won't be working on the exhibit any longer, Chief, and there will be an investigation."

Blair stood very still. When he spoke, his tone was low and quiet. "What do you mean I won't be working on the exhibit any longer?"

Jim looked him full in the face. "I mean exactly that. I don't want you having any more to do with the exhibit. It's too dangerous and I won't risk it."

Blair threw up his hands, and the anger which had been simmering under the surface bubbled forth. "I'm not asking you to risk anything, Jim. It's my decision. I can't turn my back on this project. It's too important. Maybe more important than my life. I'm defending something I believe in."

"I can't believe that you think all this--" Jim gestured at the artifacts in the room. "is more important than your life."

Blair tried a more reasonable tone. "Look, Jim. You face dangerous situations all the time. You've been hurt. I've never asked you to stop being a cop."

Jim paced the floor. "This is different, Blair."

Blair moved in front of Jim. The detective stopped and stared at him. "No, Jim. This is no different. You fight every day to protect the rights of individuals. In my own small way, I am too. I could no more stop being an anthropologist than you could stop being a cop. Don't you see? It's not just the exhibit anymore. It's what it stands for. Freedom of--"

Jim interrupted him. "Chief, we've already had this discussion. I know how you feel. I just don't happen to agree with you. Your life is worth more. If not to you then to me."

Blair sighed. "I do think my life is important, Jim. I've got way too many things to do, yet."

"Then why do you insist on putting yourself in danger?" Jim asked. His anger had ebbed and now he just wanted answers. He was concerned about Blair. More than he cared to admit.

Sandburg rolled his eyes. "We've covered this already. I really think you're blowing this out of proportion, man."

"I'm blowing this out of proportion?" Secretly though, he agreed with his friend. Lately, he'd been feeling slightly uneasy, but had chalked it up to the lack of his guide's presence at his side. "I don't think so. I'm your Blessed Protector, remember? So why don't you listen to me?"

Blair flushed and looked to the floor. "You *are* my Blessed Protector, Jim, and I know you're just trying to watch out for me." Blair shrugged, helplessly. "But this is something I have to do."

Jim sighed and Blair looked up. "I still want to report this, Chief. Assault is nothing to take lightly. Others could be in danger."

"Okay, Jim. I understand. I hadn't thought about it that way." Blair agreed, flushing guiltily. He hadn't realized the implications that the attack would have. His own selfishness could have caused someone else pain...even death. He resolved to be more thoughtful in the future.

"I'll try to run this as a low profile investigation, Chief. This way you can carry on with your exhibit."

Blair looked surprised. "You're not going to give me anymore grief over this?!" If that were the case, he'd been let off easy.

Jim smiled--slightly--for the first time. "I can't say I'm happy about it, but I can't stop you, either. But I do have one condition. Two, actually."

Blair was instantly wary. "What are the conditions?"

Jim replied, "One, don't work here alone late at night. Make sure there's someone around. In the daytime, there are lots of people in the building, but at night..." Jim trailed off at Blair's nod. "Second," Jim continued, "and this is important, trust me."

Blair was startled. "I *do* trust you, Jim. That was never an issue."

Jim just looked at him. "Blair, you weren't going to tell me about the assault. Something's wrong here, Chief. It's not like you to keep things from me."

Blair felt the guilt wash over him afresh. "I'm sorry about that, Jim. I just didn't want to make a big deal out of it."

"You let me make that call, okay? Just keep the lines of communication open between us. No more secrets. Trust, Chief, that's what it's all about."

Blair nodded. "All right, Jim. I can do that." Blair suddenly grinned. "Trust me with dinner tonight? Guess I'll be home earlier than ten." Their conversation had been way too heavy and it called for a touch of levity.

The tension left Jim's body. "Sounds good, Chief. Just no rabbit food, okay?"

"No rabbit food, got it." Blair was still grinning. He indicated to the mask on the floor with his toe. "You still want to take this?"

Jim nodded and picked up one of the dust rags Blair had been using to clean some of the artifacts. He lifted the mask, careful not to smudge any prints. "I'll take it with me now."

"Just tell them to be mindful of its importance. I'll need it back for the exhibit and I'd like it in one piece."

"No problem, Chief. I'll see you later tonight."

"Bye, Jim." Blair watched Jim walk to the door, stop, and turn to face him.

"Be careful." The command was given softly.

Blair felt a lump in his throat. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Jim stared him a moment longer as if memorizing every detail of his guide. Satisfied, he walked out the door, leaving Blair staring after him.

* * *

Friday, 4/18

Dr. Thomas greeted Blair as enthusiastically for this session as he had for the first. Blair smiled, but remained focused; he wanted to *solve* this puzzle. The sooner the better--before he began to doubt his sanity.

He settled on a futon the doctor had along one wall. Dr. Thomas turned the lights down, and drew the shades, darkening the room. He instructed Blair to relax, to imagine all his body relaxing into restfulness. Blair could hear the voice, dimly, as he relaxed on the futon, heard the doctor talking to that part of his mind that was hidden from conscious thought. He concentrated on the glowing light the doctor had told him to imagine...

...//Who are you?//

"M'name is Kythe MacKenzie. My friends call me Ky."

//Where and when do you live?//

"I live near Glenfadden, Scotland. It's the year of our Lord, 1744."

//How old are you?//

"Just turned 18."

//What is going on in your life right now?//

"All the talk aboot town is that Prince Tearlach is goin' to try to reclaim his throne. Ian's excited aboot it, but I amna."

//Why's that?//

"I dinna like fightin'. I dinna like to take lives, unless it's a necessary thing. An' I dinna see this as necessary."

//Who's Ian?//

"Och, he's my best friend. I've known him forever. We do everything together."

//Are you lovers?//

"Christ, man! What kind of question is that? Of course no! That's again' the teachings of the church. I couldna do somethin' like that."

//Are you sure? You sound pretty agitated for some reason.//

*no answer*

//Ky?//

"Aye?"

//Will you answer the question, Ky?//

*voice drops to near whisper* "God hae mercy on my soul, but I love him. But I canna ever hae him, so why subject ourselves to that misery?" Pause. "Da has a match in mind for me, to marry. Canna hae me unwed, an' prancin' around the countryside, can we."

//You sound bitter.//

"Aye, I'm bitter. I love Ian--an' I know he loves me. We're linked, he and I...meant to be together forever. But I hae a man's body, as does he...and for that we willna be permitted it."

//Okay, Ky. Take a deep breath, and relax a bit...these are just memories...that's it...relax...I want you to go forward in time, about six months. Tell me what's happening now.//

"Jesu Christus--they're goin' to do it! Scotland's goin' to fight for the Prince."

//How do you know that?//

"Ian heard the men talkin' tonight--the MacKenzie and the Battle Chieftain called a meeting of all the lairds around. We werena allowed in--most still consider us boys."

//You sound more peaceful talking about Ian.//

"Aye--my da's called off the match he was tryin' to make. The girl's father wasna honest wi' us, and we found out she had a bairn. Da was fightin' mad."

//But you're happy.//

"Aye. Ian and I are...we're lovers now. No verra often, we have to be discreet. It just feels right, somehow. He's the missing part of me. We can look at each other, an' know what the other one's thinking. When I'm wi' him, everything's right in my world."

//How does he feel about you?//

"He told me he loves me. And he calls me 'mo cridh'."

//What's that mean?//

"It means 'my heart', in the English." *pause* "I love him so much..."

//Okay...take a few more deep breaths...these are just memories, not real events. You see them happening around you, but they're in the past...relax...go forward now to the dream you've been having. What is troubling you...causing these memories to surface?//

"It's the morning of the battle."

//Which battle is that?//

"Och--Culloden, of course. We're fighting for Scotland and the Prince. Many hae died today--I can see them lyin' all around as Ian and I walk across the field."

//Where are you going?//

"To find the MacKenzie. We heard he'd fallen--want to find out for ourselves. Oh, no!"

//What's happening.//

"He's right there...He's... Oh, Christ Jesus! Oh, God, it hurts!"

//Ky, What's happening?//

"A redcoat...he's stabbed me. I could feel the blade as it slid from my body..."

//Deep breaths...it's a memory...relax...that's right...okay, relax...Good. Can you talk again?//

"Aye. Ian's here now--och, no...he's killed the soldier. He's kneeling next to me...oh, God...there's so much blood. I canna walk...and I'm too big for him to carry." *pause* "He tries. We take a few steps together, maybe a dozen. I fall, an' bring him down wi' me. Oh, Ian...I'm so sorry, love."

//What's happening now?//

*No answer*

//Ky? What's happening now?//

"I'm dyin'. I can see myself leavin' that body. Ian's cryin'...I've tried to tell him we'll meet again, but I dinna think he believes me. Ian's like that--stubborn, doesna believe in things he canna see. It's hard for him. It's been my job to guide him--now he's goin' to have to manage alone."

//It's okay...they're just memories. Go with them...relax. Good. What's happening now?//

"I've left that body, that life now."

//Are you Blair Sandburg again?//

"Yes."

//Is Ian in your present life?//

"Yes."

//Do you know who he is?//

"He's Jim."

//Who's Jim?//

"My roommate."

//Okay, Blair...we're going to bring you forward now...follow my voice. You're going to retain the memories you've uncovered here...but they'll be easy for you. No more bad dreams...follow my voice, Blair...begin the trip back...that's it...//

* * *

"Blair?"

Blair opened his eyes. The room swam slightly when he tried to sit up, and he grabbed his head. He had a killer headache. His eyes hurt, like he'd been crying. The regression... He'd died on the battlefield at Culloden. "Oh, God."

"Blair? Are you all right?"

He turned his head. Dr. Thomas. "Yeah--I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"You're the doc--you tell me."

"Do you remember?"

"Yeah." Blair's voice dropped to a whisper. "God...it was *real*. It happened."

Dr. Thomas watched him. "It's one thing to believe in reincarnation...and something else entirely to discover what that belief means, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah." Blair closed his eyes and shuddered. "That was way too intense. I saw so *much*! Stuff that I...that I just...saw. Ian and Ky...man, they were more than just lovers." He opened his eyes again. "Ky was right--we're meant to be together." He opened his eyes to find Dr. Thomas regarding him steadily.

"Do you want to schedule another session?"

"Yeah. As freaked out as I am by this, it's also way too cool. I'll get it all settled in my head before long...and I'd like to know more about me. Them. Whoever."

"Fine. How does next Friday sound?"

"Can we do it again in a few days instead?"

"Are you sure you'll be okay by then? That's a lot of information to assimilate."

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Okay...How's Tuesday, at 10:00 a.m. sound?"

"Sounds good." Blair stood up and headed for the door. "Thanks, Dr. Thomas." He held his hand out to shake the doctor's, and Thomas slipped a tape into it. "For you, to listen to over, if you want to. It's a copy of the session. I always make two."

"Thanks. See you Tuesday."

* * *

Blair drove back to the University. He did have a lot to think about. But he also had a lot to *do*. Thinking would have to wait until tonight.

The day passed in relative quiet. If the team received another letter, he wasn't told. He taught his class, teased Michael, praised Sarina for her outstanding work in some of the arrangements, and left Rainier that night physically and mentally exhausted.

Lucky for him, Jim seemed to be feeling uncommunicative. Immediately after dinner he offered a good night, and headed for his room. Forget papers, exhibits, everything. He wanted to lay on his bed, and recall what he'd remembered. He stripped down to his boxers, and lay on top of his covers and closed his eyes, letting his mind drift.

His thoughts wandered through all that he'd seen in his mind that morning. Images of Ky going through his daily routine: at weapons practice, working in the stables, hunting in the woods near the castle. A lot of time spent with Ian, aching to tell the other young man how he felt about him--what he felt for him. Sensing Ian knew as well, and said nothing for the same reason he didn't. It was too painful, knowing they'd never be allowed to live together, loving each other publicly. Ky had spoken once or twice to Ian about the two of them taking off on their own, to 'seek out their fortunes'. What he'd really meant was to go where they could live together in peace, but Ian wouldn't hear of it. He'd told Ky it would be dishonorable to leave like that.

Ian. Blair's mind wrapped itself around the visual image of Ian MacKenzie. A man more unlike Jim in this life he'd never have imagined. Slighter in build, although not as small as Blair himself was. Muscular. A body shaped to be a warrior's body, in an age when claymore broadswords were common. An unruly mop of black curls that he wore short, but not *too* short. Grey eyes that seemed to pierce right through a person. And the part that was both Ian and Jim--an upstanding, respecting and respectful person. Stubborn to a fault, but true to what he believed in. Steady. Protective. He'd been protective of the less militarily minded Ky, much as his present-day counterpart was protective of Blair.

Blair sighed. There had been one scene in particular he'd seen, that he hadn't wanted to share with the doctor. It had felt too personal--and it was. The first time that Ky and Ian had come together as lovers...

* * *

_Interlude 1_

_Scotland, 1745_

_He'd found Ian in the stables, forking hay into the troughs. It was early evening, and quiet, since most folk were at the castle, dining._

_"Ian?" He'd approached slowly--the stiffness to Ian's body told him that he too had seen the rider come in._

_"Aye?"_

_Ky ached to go to him, touch him...soothe him. He couldn't do that. What he *could* do was tell him the good news. "Da's called off the match, Ian. The wench wasna a virgin--she has a bairn. I'm no goin' to have to marry her." His voice shook slightly as he told Ian this--whether from relief, or sadness over the one he still couldn't have, he didn't know._

_Ian turned and looked at him, eyes shining with tears--the same tears beginning to trickle down his cheeks. "Good," he replied in a hoarse sounding voice. "I canna tell you how much I hated the thought of you and..." He broke off, and wiped at his face. "She wasna good enough for you anyway."_

_Ky snorted. "Aye?" He could hear the bitterness in his voice. "Like as no, there'd be those thinkin' she's too good for me, did they know who I really love."_

_Ian closed the distance, slight as it was, between them. "An' who would that be, Ky?"_

_Ky felt his stomach turn over, and heard the blood thundering in his ears. "I think ye know the answer to that, mi dhu," he whispered, daring for the first time to use the endearment he'd called Ian secretly for a long time now. He leaned in a bit toward Ian, who swayed closer and placed his hand on Ky's waist. Ky closed his eyes at the touch of warm flesh on his. "Ian..."_

_"Ky--mo cridh." Ian brought his mouth level with Ky's, hovering just above it._

_"Oh, God, love..." Ky nearly sobbed the words, and then Ian's mouth was on his, and his world was spinning out of control._

_They kissed, arms entwining around the other, drawing each other closer. It was the kiss of two people totally inexperienced with intimacy, and that made it all the sweeter for both of them. Ian opened his mouth under the onslaught of Ky's, and Ky groaned against that mouth as he felt the slickness of Ian's tongue against his. Their tongues played with each other, exchanging caresses, until Ky was gripping Ian's arms, fighting for control over his body._

_Ian pulled away from Ky, panting heavily. "Let's go up to the loft," he whispered to Ky. Ky nodded, not eager to be discovered making love with his best friend in the stable._

_They climbed the ladder awkwardly, trying to maintain physical contact. Once in the loft, they drew back to the far corner, as far away from the edge as possible. Ky knelt down in the straw, and drew Ian down with him. They knelt facing each other, and began to explore each other with lips and hands. Slowly, gently, they exchanged soft teasing kisses, small nips at each other's lips, sucking on each other's tongues. Ky began to unlace Ian's shirt, and felt his friend's fingers doing the same. They pulled apart long enough to draw the shirts off, then Ky was bending down to nuzzle at Ian's neck, trailing kisses across his chest, licking at the flat pink nubs that were half-hidden in the whorls of soft dark hair that surrounded them. He heard Ian's sharp intake of breath as his tongue danced across one nipple, and he repeated the action on the other. Ian grabbed onto Ky's upper arms, and groaned as Ky began suckling the tempting little bits. He pulled at Ky's head, urging him back up to where he could reach Ky's mouth, and sent a questing hand downward to rub at the erection that was poking against Ky's kilt._

_"God, Ian...I want to touch ye...feel ye against me." Ky reached shaking hands down to undo Ian's kilt, then released his. They moved their bodies closer until their erect cocks were pressing against each other._

_Ian leaned in to kiss Ky again, and Ky felt desire shake him to his core. He wanted this. He wanted this with Ian, over and over again, forever. Gently he pressed Ian backward, until his lover lay beneath him, hips thrusting against his own, cocks rubbing together. Ky reached a hand down to caress Ian's chest, rubbing and touching every inch he could reach. Their lips continued to tease at each other's, drifting off occasionally to nip at an ear, or the soft skin of the neck._

_Ian broke away first. "I want ye inside me, Ky...I want to feel ye movin' in me...loving me." He groaned as Ky licked his throat. _

_"Yes, mi dhu...I want it, too." Ky leaned back over Ian and kissed him again. "I want to put myself in ye...and love ye until we explode." He drew himself off of Ian. "I amna real sure about this, Ian...Do ye...?" _

_Ian grinned. "I dinna know much more, but for this," he shifted up onto his knees, then onto all fours, turning his head back to talk to Ky, "I think this is right." _

_Ky groaned as Ian presented his ass to him. "Aye...this'll do. Oh, God, mi dhu...I want you so bad..." He knelt behind Ian, and moved up closely behind him. Ian was so tempting, there in front of him. He leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on each of Ian's cheeks. Ian moaned lightly above him, and Ky smiled. He pulled back then, and sucked on a finger for a moment--instinctively sensing the need for lubrication of some sort--before inserting it gently into Ian's straining body. Ian groaned and tightened around him, then the muscles relaxed, and Ky could move his finger. He thrust gently back and forth, feeling Ian loosen up around him. He withdrew the finger, and moistened it and another, sliding in more easily this time. _

_Ian pushed himself back against the fingers, panting. "More, mo cridh. Take me...I burn for ye." He had bent forward on his arms, and was now stroking his cock, pushing back against Ky's fingers and thrusting against his own hand. _

_Ky withdrew his fingers, and spat into his hand. He rubbed the spit over his cock, combining it with the pre-ejaculate that had begun to ooze out. "Relax, Ian...I dinna want to hurt ye..." He pressed against the opening, felt it give slightly to him. Ky groaned when the pressure around his cock increased as the tight ring of muscle slowly opened to allow him entrance. Ian was so hot...so tight. He pushed in slightly, then stopped, allowing Ian time to adjust. His friend was moaning now, the sound a combination of pleasure and pain. Ky pressed forward until he was all the way inside, his balls pressing against Ian's ass. He held still for a long moment to give Ian a chance to get used to him, using the time to stroke his hands along Ian's back, admiring the way the muscles moved beneath him. Ian pushed back against him sharply, and he took the hint and began moving. Slow thrusts turned into harder and faster as they found their rhythm. Ky gripped Ian tightly by the hips, pounding into him. Ian pumped himself in time to the thrusts, his gasping cries arousing Ky further. _

_"Ky...it's...I-I...Oh, God..." Ian's body stiffened and shuddered underneath him, and Ky shuddered himself as he felt the muscles in Ian's anus clench around him in response to Ian's orgasm. He thrust hard into Ian's body and exploded, sending his seed deep into his lover. _

_They collapsed together onto the straw, and Ky rolled them so they lay spooned together, still joined. Breathing calmed and heart rates slowed as the new lovers lay together, savoring the feelings. Ky stroked the black curls off Ian's damp forehead, and placed several kisses at the nape of his neck. "I love ye, mi dhu. There is no one else for me...ever." _

_Ian laced his fingers with Ky's, and pulled the other's arms closer around him. "I love ye, Ky. I willna let anything ever part us...I swear it." _

_"Dinna make promises ye may no be able to keep, mi dhu." Ky cradled his lover in his arms. "I know ye want to, but ye canna say that nothing will ever part us--we dinna know that." _

_"Ky..." _

_"Shh, mi dhu. I love ye. Let it be enough that we hae each other for now...and worry about the rest later. Let's rest a bit here, aye? Then we hae to go home..." _

_"Aye. Let's rest a bit..." _

_They fell asleep, cuddled together in the straw. _

* * *

_The morning was just a hint of pink breaking through the clouds on the eastern horizon. Ian MacKenzie rolled out of his lover's arms and headed for a tree just a few yards away from him. Kythe watched him go with a fond look on his face. God, he loved him. It felt like he'd loved him for his whole life, and then some. The feelings inside him were too big to contain sometimes, and he had to remind himself that he and Ian could only be together if they were discrete. The church had definite opinions-and punishments--for men who loved other men. But there was something about Ian that moved Kythe to indiscretion. _

_They'd slept together last night, made love first with a fierceness that still took Ky's breath away to think about it; then Ian took him with a consummate gentleness that had brought tears to both their eyes. Normally they wouldn't have taken the chance at discovery--so many people about, even in the privacy of their little dug-out in the side of the hill--but neither one cared this time. Who knew what would happen, come daylight, and the battle? _

_Ian returned, shaking out his kilt as he appeared. Ky grinned as he stood up. Ian was fastidious about his personal appearance--and his space. It was a good subject to tease him on...but not this morning. They had to hurry to meet up with their regiment. They embraced and exchanged one last lingering kiss, and a caress. Then Ian pulled away. _

_"Come, mo cridh. Himself willna be happy if we're late." _

_Ky nodded and gathered up his sword, buckling it on as they began to walk. He looked at Ian, who was doing the same. "D'ye think we'll win?" _

_Ian shook his head. "I dinna know. God knows Prince Tearlach wants to win..." He trailed off. "We're seriously outnumbered, Ky. I listened to some of the men talkin' last night, an' we havena much chance, near as I can tell." _

_"Why are we fightin' then?" _

_Ian looked at him. "Ye know why, mo cridh. We fight for a throne for our rightful sovereign." _

_Ky rolled his eyes. "I dinna like fighting. Ye know that." _

_"Aye, I do. Ye'll hae to manage best ye can then, and stay near me." _

_Ky smiled in amusement. He knew Ian found it funny too. Although Ky was built like a warrior, it was the smaller Ian who was the soldier of the two. He had to coach Ky through battle training--not that either of them had had a lot...He himself had turned 19 just a few weeks past, and Ian only a month before that. Ky touched Ian's fingers with his own and whispered, "I love ye, mi dhu," before they joined the rest. _

_There was no more time for talking then. They fell into formation with their clan, and prepared for the battle that would restore the throne to Bonnie Prince Charlie... _

* * *

Blair moaned as his hand rubbed his own erection. The memories of his--of Ky's--first time had been too intense. He clamped his lips together, not wanting Jim to hear him, but he could hardly control himself. Those memories, combined with his barely- contained thoughts of Jim, served to heighten his arousal to nearly unbearable levels. His hand moved faster as he began thrusting against it, feeling the slickness as his cock began to ooze. If he concentrated he could *feel* the shared memories, and imagined it was Jim's mouth sliding across his nipples, sucking on them...Jim's hand wrapping around his aching cock...Jim's cock thrusting into him...

He came with a gasp, his body convulsing over and over again as he spurted his seed onto his belly and thighs.

Blair sighed and let go of his now-softening cock. Twice in just a couple of days. This must be some kind of record for him. He was going to have to figure out how to approach Jim pretty soon, before he went insane from the wanting.

Jim turned over in bed, nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of Blair's arousal spreading through the air. It triggered a corresponding ache in his groin that he steadfastly tried to ignore. He could write off the other morning off as a fluke, but not twice in a couple of days. His ears heard a faint moan...then another. Without conscious thought he focused his hearing in on Blair, was able to make out the sounds of flesh meeting flesh...and knew that Blair was masturbating. The sounds became more frequent, and the moaning was almost continuous. He knew Blair was trying to be quiet...and losing the battle. He felt his body jerk in response when the sharp tangy scent of semen filled the air. Jim rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head, determined to ignore his body's reaction to the deluge of hormones and pheromones in the air.

Sleep would prove elusive that night for both the occupants of the loft.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Early Saturday Morning, 4/19

Blair was still lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling at almost two in the morning. He wasn't tired in spite of the fact that he hadn't got much sleep this week. Instead, his mind was going as fast as a roach on amphetamines. So far the memories uncovered had raised more questions than they'd answered, the most important question being how did Jim figure into all of this? Blair was certain Jim had been an important part of some of his past lives. Probably just as important as in this one. It would take more sessions with Dr. Thomas to find out.

There was a knock on the door. "Chief?"

Blair turned his head. "Come in."

Jim opened the door and peered in. Blair noticed that the detective was fully dressed and his eyebrows rose in surprise.

"That was Simon on the phone. Duty calls." Jim's gaze lingered on his roommate's bare chest and he swallowed, the memory of his body's reaction to Blair's scent earlier in the evening rising unbidden in him. Blair didn't seem to notice. "Get dressed, Chief. I'll meet you in the living room."

Blair mumbled something about not hearing the phone and stood. He grabbed his clothes from where he'd dropped them earlier and pulled them on. He took a leather tie from his night stand and tied his hair back. He walked out of his room yawning, and said, "Okay, I'm ready."

"Let's go."

"What's up, Jim?" Blair asked as they headed out the door and down the stairs.

"Vacation's over, Chief. There's been a break-in at the Cascade Museum of Art."

"A break-in at the museum, huh?" Blair questioned as Jim guided the Expedition through the empty streets.

Jim nodded and Blair continued. "What happened? Anything stolen?"

The detective threw a quick glance at his partner. "Simon didn't give me many details. He said that there was some vandalism, but he was waiting for the curator to discuss possible theft. He's the only one who knows the inventory."

"Yeah," Blair replied, "Mr. Parker knows that place inside and out."

"Well, Simon's dragged him out of bed." Jim turned right at the light.

"Any ideas as to who did it?" Blair questioned.

"No. We won't know anything until we get there," Jim said reasonably.

Blair nodded in agreement. "Vandalism. Hope it's not too bad. There are some pretty valuable things in that museum, most of it irreplaceable."

Ellison didn't reply as they came upon the flashing red lights of the police cars surrounding the museum. Jim pulled into the parking lot and got out, with Blair close behind him.

"Detective Ellison," a female in uniform approached them. "Captain Banks is waiting for you inside."

"Thanks, Lopez." Jim grabbed Blair's jacket sleeve and pulled him along. "Come on. Let's check it out."

Blair increased his pace in order to keep up. He loved the feel of Jim's hand on his arm. The younger man stumbled as Jim stopped abruptly.

"What is it, Jim?" Blair asked, looking around for Simon.

"Don't you notice it, Chief?" Jim answered with a question of his own.

Blair looked puzzled and Jim explained. "Nothing in this area has been touched. It's okay."

"Most of the rooms are like this. Untouched." Simon joined them, cigar clamped between his teeth. "In fact, it looks like a false alarm." He spared a glance at Sandburg. "You okay? I heard about what happened."

Blair nodded. He had expected that Jim would tell Simon about was going on at the university.

Jim didn't seem to hear them. His eyes narrowed and he sniffed the air. "But it isn't a false alarm. I smell spray paint." 'Spray paint,' he thought, 'and something else. Roses?' Jim looked around for the thorny flowers and spotted them sitting on the greetings table in the front hall. He frowned, instinctively knowing that they weren't the source of the odor. This was different...more manufactured. Jim couldn't quite define the elusive scent and he concentrated.

"Jim?" Blair waved a hand in front of his face. "Jim! Come on, buddy."

Jim slowly turned to his Guide. "Yeah, Chief?"

"You back with us, man? For a minute there, I thought you zoned out."

Banks was watching the detective, a frown on his face. "What was it, Jim?"

Jim shook his head. "Thought I smelled something. Roses."

Simon nodded toward the vase on the table. "There are some over there."

"Yeah, that must have been it," Ellison replied uneasily. Those weren't the roses he had smelled. He hoped it would come to him in time.

Blair was looking at him quizzically, obviously not believing him. The anthropologist didn't say anything, however, knowing that Jim would probably tell him later. He'd find out one way or another.

Simon didn't look too convinced, either, but also kept quiet. "Come take a look at this." He led the way toward the back of the museum.

Blair's eyes widened as they stepped into the Egyptian gallery. Pedestals lay crashed upon the ground amidst pieces of shattered glass from empty display cases. Scrawled across the walls in red spray paint was the phrase "Stop the Blasphemy". Next to it, done in black marker was a strange looking symbol...almost like a sun with hands for rays.

Jim looked around. "Looks like they made off with all the stuff here."

"We're waiting on the curator, Mr. Parker. He'll be able to tell us more." Simon eyed the destruction and shook his head.

Something nagged at Blair's mind. He wrinkled his brow in concentration. Suddenly, the memory fell into place. "No," he said aloud, startling his two companions. "Nothing's missing."

"He's absolutely right." A white-haired gentleman, wearing a pair of black slacks and a matching sweater, walked up to them. "There was nothing here for them to take. This...destruction, however, is something else entirely." The man's mustache quivered in indignation.

Jim, who had been frowning at his partner's cryptic statement, turned to the newcomer. Noting the anger in the older man's face he spoke, "I agree with you, Sir. James Ellison, Cascade PD. This is my captain, Simon Banks, and my partner, Blair Sandburg. You must be the curator?" Jim held his hand out the man, and it was grasped firmly.

"I am. I'm Mitchell Parker. Nice to meet you both. The good professor and I are already acquainted."

Blair winced slightly. He wasn't a full-fledged professor, but Mr. Parker didn't seem to care about the distinction. He supposed he should be flattered but it sounded too pretentious. "Mr. Parker, if you need any assistance here, I'm sure I can get some students to come out and help clean this up," Blair offered.

The curator waved him off. "That won't be necessary. The insurance will take care of it. It's the act behind the destruction that bothers me. I suppose though, it could have been much worse. The things of value usually stored in this room could have been damaged or stolen."

Ellison glanced around. "What *was* in here, and where is it now?"

Mr. Parker indicated the broken cases. "We kept scarabs, amulets and other Egyptian jewelry in those. In addition, we had a few bronze figurines of the Egyptian gods. In fact, we have a very rare one of Set. He was Osiris' brother only they didn't get along very well. Set eventually killed him." Mr. Parker paused, waiting for the inevitable request for an explanation. He shrugged and continued when no one spoke. "The British Museum has only two Set statues. We're very fortunate to have one."

Simon shifted impatiently. "Anything else?"

Mr. Parker nodded. "We have some wooden canopic chests, some mummified animals--cat, monkey, antelope--some Ushabiti figures, some--"

Jim interrupted. "Where's the stuff if it's not here?"

Blair opened his mouth to answer, but Mr. Parker beat him to it. "The *stuff* as you put it, is at the university."

Jim's gaze shifted to his Guide.

Blair shrugged. "We've borrowed the museum's exhibit to supplement ours. I received everything today--yesterday--Friday. It's all stored in the university's vault."

Jim's eyes narrowed. "Who knew that the things in this room were being transferred to the university?"

Mr. Parker shrugged again. "Myself, a couple of my staff, and the people involved with the university exhibit, I suppose." He turned to Blair for confirmation.

Blair nodded. "A handful of us knew that the museum was loaning their Egyptian pieces."

Jim placed his hands on his hips. "So why all this?"

"What are you getting at, Jim?" Simon asked.

"It's too pat, too neat, Simon," Jim replied. "The museum has had this exhibit up for a while, right?"

Mr. Parker answered. "Of course, it's part of the museum's permanent collection. It's changed and updated periodically, but the core pieces are on display year-round."

Jim nodded. "That's what I thought." He turned to Simon, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It isn't an attempted robbery like we first thought. Why try it now? It's too much of a coincidence that someone should try to rob the museum at the time the artifacts are somewhere else. And there's the fact that no other area of the museum has been touched. No," Jim shook his head. "There's something else going on here. Someone is sending a message. That's why the vandalism."

Simon reread the words scrawled along the walls, and noted the strange symbol in the center. "So you're saying that whoever broke in here tonight knew that the artifacts had been moved."

"Not only that," Jim agreed, "But they probably also knew where the artifacts went."

Simon sighed and reached for his cell phone. Punching a few numbers into the phone, he was soon issuing orders. "This is Banks. I need you to get a hold of the dean of the anthropology department--his name is--" Simon looked questioningly at Blair.

"Benito Verastique," the young man answered.

Simon repeated the name into the receiver and continued with his instructions. "Tell him to meet us at the university in about an hour. I want drive-by patrols and a man on the inside keeping an eye on the artifacts. We've already had one assault--I don't want any more. I'll report in again shortly. Just be sure to have people in place by the time I get to the university."

Blair stared at the symbol of the sun disc crudely drawn with black marker amidst the red spray paint. He was trying to ignore Simon's conversation. Being reminded of his assault with Jim standing a few feet behind him made Blair feel guilty all over again.

"Chief?"

The anthropologist didn't acknowledge Jim. He frowned, wondering why the symbol looked so familiar to him. Following the rays that emanated from the disc symbol of the sun, he noticed that they ended in hands. The young man could swear he had seen the symbol before, but where he'd seen it or what it meant proved to be too elusive for his tired mind.

"Chief!" Jim's voice was more insistent.

Blair turned, startled. "What?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "You really have to stop day dreaming, Sandburg." He smiled to let Blair knew he was only kidding. The younger man answered with a smile of his own, and for a minute the barrier that had developed between them shimmered out of existence. Jim indicated the wall. The symbol had been bothering him, too. "Do you know what it means?"

Blair shrugged. "Actually, I think I do, but I just can't remember..." Blair trailed off, once again turning to stare at the symbol.

Jim stood, marveling at the look of intense concentration on his friend's face. He always enjoyed the expressions which danced across that handsome countenance as Blair performed mental gymnastics. Mostly though, Jim loved how his partner's pupils would dilate, almost obscuring the blue of his eyes during a particularly deep thought. 'You could lose yourself in eyes like that.' He sighed in frustration. He'd been having these thoughts about his partner for weeks now, and Jim was running out of explanations.

The snap of Blair's fingers drew Jim's attention to the physical presence at his side. He was through mentally wrestling over Blair. Something stirred in the nether regions of Jim's body at the thought of *any* kind of wrestling with his Guide, and he became annoyed all over again at the reaction. He hadn't reacted to another man like this in years--and even then never this intensely. A trip to the gym this weekend was definitely in order. Anything to work off the excessive energy his body was producing.

He tuned back into Blair and was startled to see the look of surprise on his partner's face. "You recognize it now?"

Blair nodded. "Yeah, it's the same symbol on the note I got this week. Knew I'd seen it before..."

Jim frowned. "Note? What note?" He shifted uneasily. His cop instincts told him that Blair's note meant trouble. His feeling was confirmed when his Guide flushed a guilty red. "Blair," Jim started to ask, but was interrupted by the curator.

"You don't recognize the symbol, young man?" Parker raised an eyebrow.

Blair ducked his head in embarrassment. "No, sir, I don't. I know I should--"

"Of course you should!" Parker's voice boomed, catching even Simon's attention. The older man continued, "It's the symbol of the cult of Aten."

"Oh, man!" Blair's head snapped up. "That's right. It all makes sense now."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Care to explain, Chief?"

Blair took a deep breath, and Jim braced himself as a look of studious intensity settled over his features. He recognized the teacher beginning a lecture.

"During the New Kingdom period of Egyptian history, there was this new religion--the cult of Aten. Amenophis IV, known more commonly as Amen-hetep, the fourth, was the heretical leader of this group of disk worshippers."

Simon jerked a thumb toward the wall. "The symbol."

Blair nodded and continued, "Anyway, Amen-hetep was treated like a god by royal court members. His wife, Nefertiti, was too. He must have been pretty amazing because some people chose him over Amen-Ra."

"Amen-Ra was the traditional god of Egypt," Mr. Parker interrupted.

No one spared him a glance. Mr. Parker reluctantly let Blair finish.

"It really wasn't a very popular religion among the common people since it had no statues to worship. It was a solar-monotheistic religion which emphasized the king as all powerful." Blair shrugged and began to gesture expansively. "The cult died off fairly soon after the death of the king. Eventually, when King Tutankhaman came to the throne, the old temples were restored and Amen-hetep's name was removed from everything. His tomb had never been found."

Mitchell Parker crossed his arms. "Until now."

Blair nodded, smiling broadly. "Dr. Hathaway discovered it about three years ago while on an archeological expedition. I don't know how he did it, but he's managed to keep it secret. Dr. H. is planning to unveil the king's mummy at the university exhibit." The anthropologist concluded his lecture with an emphasizing jab of his fingers, excitement evident in every line of his body.

Ellison smiled at his partner's enthusiasm. He could see why Blair was a popular teacher. If he brought this much energy to teaching, the students were bound to be interested in what they were learning. In fact, Blair's attitude was contagious. "Okay, Chief. Now we know how the break-in ties into the university exhibit."

Simon spoke up. "We'll have to question everyone who was aware of the loan from the museum and those who know about the king's sarcophagus."

"Definitely, Captain," Jim agreed. "I can come back later this morning to talk to the museum staff. The university people will have to wait until Monday."

Mr. Parker cleared his throat. "You're actually in luck, Detective. I'd called a meeting for this morning. We wanted to discuss possibilities for filling this space up while the pieces were on loan. No need to have an empty museum. Everyone should be arriving about ten-thirty."

"Thank you, sir," Jim replied. "I'll be sure to be here." The detective turned to his partner. "One question, Chief."

Blair's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Go for it," he said, throwing his arms wide.

Jim swallowed at the sight. 'Should I take what you're so innocently offering, Blair?' He growled low in his throat, trying to shake the sudden image that filled his mind of Sandburg naked beneath him, their lips and bodies joined. What was with him? Besides obvious sexual frustration? He really needed to find an outlet to relieve the tension, and suddenly found himself wishing desperately for everything to return to normal, before he lost control.

"Jim?" Blair touched his arm, concerned. "You okay, man?"

"Just fine, Chief," Jim replied, trying to rein in the feelings that Blair's touch provoked.

Sandburg gazed at him a moment longer. "What's the question?"

He blinked, then smiled. He'd almost forgotten. "Oh, yeah. Is the king's coffin at the university?"

"You mean the mummy and it's accoutrements," Blair corrected. "No. It'll be arriving from Egypt in about two weeks. Dr. Hathaway had some difficulty securing permission from the Egyptian government to get it released. They don't like any of their artifacts leaving the country."

"Quite true, Mr. Sandburg. The Egyptians are very particular about preserving their history and culture. And it is the body of a king, after all; even if he was considered a heretic," Mr. Parker added.

Jim nodded. "Do either of you know any details concerning its arrival?"

Blair replied, "Dr. Hathaway is supposed to give me the particulars next week. I'll let you know when I find out anything."

"Sounds good, Chief." Jim turned to Simon. "We all finished here, sir?"

Banks nodded. "Yeah. Let's get to the university and get everything set up. I'd like to catch a few hours of sleep before sunrise."

Blair and Jim chuckled. "Okay, Captain. We'll meet you there." Jim turned to the curator. "We'll be in touch."

"Thank you, detective. I'll see you later this morning."

"Come on, Sandburg, let's go." Jim led the way out.

* * *

Blair leaned against the seat and yawned. He hadn't slept in almost twenty-four hours. He had just closed his eyes when Jim's voice startled him alert.

"Chief, you said something about a note. Care to explain?"

Blair hadn't forgotten his mention of the note, but he'd hoped Jim would, thereby avoiding a long explanation. He should have known better. Jim always remembered important things. With a sigh and a fervent prayer to escape the following conversation alive, the younger man described the letter to Jim. He was careful not to leave anything out as *any* omission would only land him deeper into trouble.

The cab of the truck was silent as Jim considered Blair's story. The anthropologist prepared himself for the explosion that would make Mount St. Helena look like a canned special effect in a cheap "B" movie.

"What happened, Chief? Why'd you break your promise? You said you'd tell me if you got anything other than phone calls."

Instead of a bang it was a whimper, but the effect was no less cutting. In fact, Jim's quiet, hurt tone cut through him more powerfully than any amount of yelling would have.

"I know I promised, Jim," Blair returned softly. "I was going to tell you, but then I...well, had the accident at the university and I forgot." He shrugged, trying to minimize its importance. "Anyway, it wasn't like the phone calls. No death threats--just general protest aimed at the exhibit."

Jim's jaw clenched as he remembered the assault. "Blair, I don't care what type of note it *was*, just that you received it. A general note of protest doesn't just suddenly escalate into a crack over the head in a basement. Whatever's happening here, it's dangerous. If you don't tell me what's going on, I can't protect you."

Blair inhaled sharply as unexpected tears sprang to his eyes. Could he love this man any more? He knew that love may never be returned in the way he wanted it, but he also knew Jim loved him, in his own way. He wouldn't care so much if he didn't. And that knowledge touched him in a way nothing else could.

Without thinking, the young man reached out and laid a hand on Jim's arm. "I..." Blair paused. He'd almost said it. He tried again. "I...know you're trying to look out for me, big guy, and you'll probably never know how much that means to me. But...things happen, sometimes beyond your control. Call it fate, destiny, whatever. We do the best we can and live life accordingly. You can't be there watching out for me all the time. You're a Sentinel, not a superhero."

Jim understood the message behind the soft-spoken words. He even saw the logic. But he knew with great certainty that if something happened to Blair that he could prevent, he'd never survive it. He sighed, "Chief, all I ask is that you make my job--my life--a little easier. You think you could let me know if you get any more notes--or anything else--no matter what kind they are?"

Blair's smile was rueful. "Sure, Jim. I guess there's been so much going on lately that I haven't been really with it. I'll do better about keeping you informed."

"You do that. Is there *anything* else you've forgotten to tell me?"

"No. You've been brought up to speed."

Jim nodded as he pulled along side Simon's car and parked. "Let's get this over with. I don't know about you, but I could use some sleep."

"Amen," Blair replied.

* * *

Monday 4/21

Jim walked down the stairs flexing and rolling his shoulder, trying to relieve the persistent ache. He'd overdone it yesterday, lifting more and doing more reps than he really should have done. He just couldn't get thoughts of his Guide out of his mind no matter how much exercise he did. Even the after-burn of working out hadn't helped. He'd punished his body, and his mind was still spinning out of control.

When had these thoughts started? Jim shook his head as he moved into the kitchen, trying to pin-point when he'd first become *aware* of Blair. Sexually aware. Oh, shit...that was scary to put to words, even just mentally. What was going on here? He was happy with his relationship with him the way it was--wasn't he? 'Yeah, Jimbo...that explains why you dream about his lips; dream about what he tastes like; fantasize about him.' The other factor was Blair himself. He had no way of knowing without asking how the man felt--if he was interested--and wasn't ready to sacrifice their friendship for something he wasn't entirely sure of himself.

"Morning, Jim."

He flinched slightly at the quiet greeting, sure that Blair could see his thoughts tattooed on the outside of his head. "'Morning, Chief."

Blair reached around him for a coffee mug, and Jim took the opportunity to do some deep breathing, trying to savor the scent of his Guide that rose around him. He winced as he shifted to move out of Blair's way, and his partner turned questioning eyes on him.

"You okay, big guy?"

Jim nodded and flexed the shoulder once more. "Just over-did it at the gym yesterday."

"Mmm. Didja put anything on it?"

"Yeah--some of that icy-heat stuff. Didn't help."

"Try turning down the pain dial?"

Jim took a deep breath and slowly counted to ten. "Yes. I did. It didn't help either. Okay?"

Sandburg stepped back from him a pace or two, and cocked his head, studying him. "No...not okay," he said slowly. "You can't walk around all day, working on an investigation, with an achy shoulder. Go sit at the table."

"Why?"

"I'm gonna give you a rub-down. That should help."

"Sandburg, I don't have time for this."

"You don't have the time to *not* do this, Jim. You need to be at your best to do your job--how're you gonna do that if you're walking around favoring it, and wincing every time you move?"

Ellison shook his head. How'd Blair do it? Every time he was certain he was going to remain firm on something, his Guide pushed his way through his defenses. He sat down slowly, the muscles protesting any flexing. He looked up and saw Blair studying him. "What?"

"Take your shirt off--I don't want to get liniment on it."

"Blair--" Great. In his current state of mind, he did *not* need to have Blair's hands on his naked skin--regardless of which part was naked. 'Of course, the more naked the better,' his mind sang out cheerfully. He shuddered.

"Jim?"

"Never mind. Just do it," he commanded tersely, every muscle in his body tight with tension as he stripped off his shirt.

"You're gonna have to relax if I'm gonna be able to do this," Blair stated, looking at the solid mass of tightened muscles.

Jim made a valiant effort to relax, and closed his eyes. Over the scent of the liniment and the coffee in the cup in front of him, he could smell Blair. The aloe and evergreen of his shampoo; the faint coffee smell on his breath, as well as a minty smell, probably toothpaste. He could even detect a faint whiff of... No! He wasn't going there. He knew what *that* scent was--he'd smelled it on his Guide often enough lately. He'd decided the other day that Blair must be going through a second adolescence of some sort, to be jerking off so often.

The hands on his shoulders felt wonderful, and Jim felt a groan rising from him as Blair attacked a knot in the one he'd overworked. "Ahhh...God," he sighed as the muscles smoothed out under his Guide's hands.

"Feel good?" Jim could hear the smile in Blair's voice, and smiled slightly in response.

"Yeah, it does--Ouch! That didn't! Be careful." Jim tried to focus on the feel of Blair's fingers, and not the pain of the muscles relaxing after being tense for so long.

"Sorry." Blair reached for the liniment again, and began rubbing more into Jim's shoulder.

The combination of hot and cold from the liniment, as well as the feel of Blair's fingers stroking across his skin, digging into the hard muscle, combined into a mass of sensory input that manifested itself in a very embarrassing manner. Jim shifted in his chair as he realized he was getting hard. 'Great...' he groaned silently. 'Just what I *didn't* need to happen.' He sat, tense and uncomfortable as Blair finished up the shoulder rub.

"There," the younger man said as he rubbed his hands on a towel. "Go shower and let the hot water soak into it--should feel a lot better."

Jim slowly rotated the shoulder, feeling the newly loosened muscles. "It does. Thanks." He shifted again, wondering how he could get past Blair to the bathroom. What he actually wanted to do was grab Blair up, and... His cock throbbed uncomfortably inside the now-tight sweats as he axed that thought abruptly.

Blair turned to go into the kitchen and wash his hands, and Jim took that opportunity to dash--as quickly as he could, in his condition--to the bathroom.

He stood under the hot water allowing it to run down onto his shoulders and back, the heat very soothing. And distracting. What he needed right now was a *cold* shower. His groin throbbed uncomfortably, and Jim sighed. Not much to do about it now, except finish himself off. He leaned back against the shower and ran his hands down his body, pausing as he skimmed over his nipples to pinch them lightly, imagining Blair's hands roaming over him. Blair. Jim sighed again as he reached down to lightly stroke his cock. He closed his eyes, and it was his Guide's face he saw...and this time he didn't try to change that face.

He made a fist, creating a tunnel to surround his aching flesh. He began pumping in and out of his fist, imagining Blair's lips on his, their tongues merging. Gentle hands--as gentle as they'd been on his shoulder--reaching for him; gripping him...stroking him. Reaching down to cup his balls: stroking and grasping, rolling gently; then not so gently. Hard, fast...more intense as the fire in the pit of his belly began to burn out of control. Jim pumped himself fast and furious, and came then in a explosion of lust, desire and uncertainty.

He finished the shower quickly, and dressed, then left the relative safety of the bathroom. Blair had breakfast on the table; a plate of biscuits and some fresh fruit. He gave him a look that Jim had trouble interpreting.

"Shoulder okay?"

"Yeah--a lot better, thanks." Jim sat down at the table and Blair brought over two glasses of orange juice, then sat down across from him. Jim felt a thread of heat curl through his stomach as he watched Blair; those elegant hands fixing a biscuit, dishing up fruit. He heaved a mental sigh, and settled down to his own breakfast, determined to put this morning out of his mind.

Inward thoughts turned to thoughts about the day, and Jim and Blair fell into a familiar if not wholly comfortable conversation about the upcoming day.

* * *

"I'm glad you made this list for me, Chief." Jim was scanning the names of those people working on the university exhibit. They both stood in Blair's office ready to begin the investigation.

"Not a problem, man." Blair gestured to the piece of paper in Jim's hands. "Actually, there are only a few people who are in the know, so to speak. The others are just students helping out with the manual labor. You know, shifting crates, moving artifacts, set up--stuff like that."

Jim nodded. "All right, then. We'll concentrate on the individuals you have starred." He leaned against one of Blair's bookshelves, managing to knock a few books to the floor in the process.

"Don't worry about it," Blair said when Jim made a move to pick them up.

"Dr. Hathaway is in charge of the exhibit?" Jim asked, pointing to the name at the top of the list.

"Yeah. A lot of the artifacts belong to him. He's been on various digs around the world and he's collected quite a bit." Blair perched on his desk. "It's his exhibit and he'll be given the credit, but I'm really in charge. He's far too busy to take an active role in the proceedings."

"That so." Jim looked skeptical. "No offense, Chief, but if I'd spent my whole life working toward this I wouldn't just turn around and leave it in the hands of a grad student."

Blair smiled. "You'd be surprised, Jim. Why do the work when you can get some student to shoulder the burden while you reap the praise."

"Sounds familiar." Jim returned the smile. "I'll start with him. Where is his office located?"

"I'll walk you there," Blair offered and stood. "Hey, Jim. It's okay if we work on the exhibit, right? Since nothing's really happened here?"

Jim frowned and followed his partner out into the hallway. "You can work on it, Chief. The security Simon posted is there twenty-four hours. Just make sure you keep business hours, okay? I don't want you alone."

"Cool." Blair stopped in front of a wooden door marked Dr. Noah Hathaway, and gestured. "He should be in there. I'll be in the basement working. Come on down when you're through. Sarina and Michael will be with me, and they're the other two main people on the list."

"All right. See you in a few." Jim knocked on the door as Blair headed for the staircase on the opposite end of the hallway. The Sentinel watched his Guide disappear down the stairs as the door opened.

"Can I help you?" A short middle-aged man peered across the top of his bifocals at Jim.

"Yes, Dr. Hathaway?"

"That's me, young man." The professor gestured for Jim to enter the office.

Jim smiled. He hadn't been referred to as a "young man" in years. "I'm Detective Jim Ellison. I have a few questions to ask you about the exhibit."

"Sit down, Detective. You know, you really should be talking to Blair Sandburg. He's in charge."

"Yes sir, I know--and I will. I'd like to talk to you, as well, though." Jim settled in the chair the professor indicated.

"All right Detective, I'll help as best as I can. Go ahead." Dr. Hathaway looked expectantly at him.

"First, I'd like to know..." Jim began.

A half hour later, Jim left the professor's office no closer to knowing the answers than before. He sighed. This investigation was hitting a little too close to home and all he wanted was to have it solved *right now*, as in yesterday. The irony of the situation was that it was going to be a long and difficult case.

Moving toward the staircase that would lead him down to Blair, Jim paused on the top step and looked back down the hall he'd just left. Seeing no one, he tuned his sensitive hearing into the sound that had caught his attention.

"...I've got to get back downstairs, Sethos."

"Be very careful, Sarina. Strange spirits are about," an accented voice replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"One mustn't invoke the wrath of religious spirits, little one. Have a care." The man whom Sarina had identified as Sethos returned in a quiet, menacing voice.

"Whatever. I've gotta go. Blair's expecting me."

"Ah, yes, the highly enthusiastic one. I have seen him around..."

"You hang around too much and people are going to start to wonder what you're doing here."

"You let me worry about that, Sarina. Now go on before your boyfriend comes looking for you."

"Blair isn't my boyfriend."

"Ah, but you'd like him to be." Laughter.

"Bye, Sethos."

"Sarina..."

Jim frowned as he ran down the hall on stealthy feet. Leaning against the wall, he cautiously peeked around the corner just in time to see a dark looking man leave the building. Sarina was heading toward Jim.

The detective stepped out in front of her, startling the petite woman.

"Mr. Ellison! What are you doing here?"

"Sorry I startled you, Sarina. I was actually looking for Blair, but I need to talk to you." Jim smiled easily.

"Really? What about?"

Jim gestured forward. "Can we walk down to the exhibit while we talk? I've got to see Michael, too."

Sarina nodded and fell into step beside Jim. "What's going on?"

"Well, I'm sure you've heard about the break-in at the museum."

"What break-in?" The blonde looked puzzled.

Jim explained what had happened over the weekend and proceeded to ask her about the exhibit, the incoming treasure of the cult of Aten and if she knew of others who may know anything about the artifacts. He was careful to note her expertise in African culture and by the time they'd entered the basement, he was ready to talk to Michael.

* * *

Jim leaned against the counter, watching his Guide. "Okay, Chief...I want to go back to the museum tomorrow, take another look around. I was thinking about ten or so. How's that sound?"

Blair looked up from the computer where he'd been making notes, and shook his head. "No can do, Jim. I have a doctor's appointment at ten."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth Blair wished them back in. He watched the surprise, then shock, then fear...then anger, race across Jim's face. He sighed and closed his eyes, bracing himself, waiting for the inevitable explosion. When it didn't come he opened his eyes, a little fearful and a lot curious. "Jim?"

The older man was staring at him, fear evident in his eyes. "Are you sick? Why didn't you say anything?"

Blair shook his head. "No, man, it's not like that. I'm seeing a...a..." Blair stopped helplessly. How to explain this one to Jim? "My friend, Jarvis, referred me to a therapist to help me with those dreams. That's all," he finished, hoping Jim would buy it.

Ellison sighed, breath leaving his body in a near-explosion. "God, I thought..." his voice trailed off, and he looked at Blair. "You *would* tell me if something was wrong, right? You'd let me know if you were sick?"

"Of course I would! What kind of question is that?"

Jim shook his head and began pacing. "A legitimate one. I know things haven't been...I know we haven't been talking lately like we usually do. But you know I--I'm here if you need me, Chief."

Blair stared at his friend. Where'd all this come from? "Jim," he began gently. "I'm fine...but if I weren't, you'd be the first one to know. Okay?"

Jim nodded, a strange expression lighting his eyes. "Okay." He exhaled, wanting to lighten the mood somewhat. "Is it working?"

"Is what working?" Blair turned off the computer and stood up, not seeing how Jim's eyes followed the movements of his body as he stretched.

"The doctor thing. Your dreams. Still having them?"

"Nope--not for the last couple of nights."

"Well, good. Guess I'll go to the museum tomorrow then while you're at the doctor's --you available afterward?"

Blair frowned slightly, mentally reviewing his calendar. "Probably, but check with me then, okay? Gods know what'll come up between now and then."

Jim smiled finally at the almost petulant tone in Blair's voice. Could be his Guide was a bit over-extended, and finally feeling it.

* * *

Tuesday 4/22

Blair rolled over when the alarm went off, groaning loudly as muscles and joints protested movement from all night sleeping in one position. It was nice to not be stabbed in his sleep every night anymore; he'd gotten so used to sleeping poorly that it was amazing to him how well he was sleeping now.

He realized that today's session might be rather strange; with the other one he'd had half an idea of what he would find... no such a thing with this one. More of Ian and Ky? Another life? Would that one be with or without Jim? Blair sighed as he sat up. When he had a little free time he was going to go to the bookstore and see what he could find on the subject of soul-mates, since he was feeling pretty sure that Jim was his.

The feelings that Ky and Ian had shared between them seemed to indicate more than just two people who'd fallen in love. The tragedy there was that they didn't get to spend more time together--that Ky's life was cut so short. Too bad they didn't live in a day and age that would let them be together, and be happy. Blair snorted with bitter amusement at *that* thought --most of the gay people he knew in this lifetime were still waiting for the same thing.

He shook his head and began moving, getting ready for his day. His appointment was at ten, and he had a lot to do before then.

Jim was already up and moving around. Blair felt heat rush through his body when he saw the tall, solid form in the kitchen. It looked as if Jim had just woke as well, since he was walking around in nothing more than boxers. Blair swallowed convulsively. Man, if things in life didn't settle down soon and give him a chance to think about how to talk to Jim about this... His body reacted to the sight of Jim's, and Blair headed quickly for the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, freshly showered and traitorous anatomy hopefully under control, Blair headed for the kitchen.

"Hey, Jim."

"Morning, Chief. Sleep okay?"

"Yeah, man. You?" Blair poured himself a mug of coffee, and gestured toward Jim's cup with the pot.

"No thanks. Yeah, I slept okay. Getting itchy though--I want to get this case *solved*, Chief. It's starting to wear on me, you know?"

Blair nodded, and took his coffee cup into the living room to put his shoes on. "Yeah. It's beginning to affect everything, not just the exhibit." A veiled reference to Jim's reaction of the night before; outbursts like that usually only occurred when Jim was over-tired, or unusually frustrated by something.

He finished tying his shoes and stood up. "I gotta run, man. Stuff to do before I meet with the doc. You coming by after you go to the museum, or what?"

Jim shook his head. "I don't know yet. I'll call you and let you know, okay?"

"Sure man, whatever. See you round, Jim."

"Yeah, Chief."

Jim watched Blair leave the loft, his eyes troubled. What had prompted such an obvious display of protectiveness on his part last night? Sexual attraction to his Guide was one thing, but these other feelings manifesting themselves lately smacked more of emotional involvement--of a kind he wasn't ready to explore yet.

* * *

Blair settled onto the futon, comfortable with the thought of discovering more of 'himself', even if it wasn't actually him. He grinned. How many different times could you say something like that without being labeled 'weird'?

"Something funny, Blair?"

"Just my thoughts, Doc. Are we ready?"

"As soon as you are."

"Okay, then." Blair settled back and closed his eyes and listened to Thomas' voice lulling him into a trance; urging his mind and memory backward in time...

//You can remember everything, every experience you have ever had.//

Blair nodded automatically.

//I want you to think back past the battle of Culloden; cast yourself back. These are just memories of past experiences; nothing here will hurt you. Open your mind and see what you can see.//

"I see...It's dark. And cold. I'm wet. They're all yelling at me...hands are reaching for me, but it's too late. I--I..."

//It's okay, Blair. Just float above the experience. This is just a memory...you can't be hurt now. That's it...//

"I'm not in that body any longer."

//What were you doing in that body?//

"My sister and I were aboard a boat. We were far out to sea when a storm broke out. A wave washed me overboard."

//What happened to the rest of the people?//

"I don't know."

//How old were you?//

"Fourteen, maybe. Young."

//Okay, you've left that life. I want you to continue backward, see where you go. Remember, these are just memories. They won't hurt you.//

"I'm standing up before a lot of people...holding hands with a young man. I'm wearing a dress--it's my wedding day."

//Do you know the young man?//

"Yes. It's Jarvis. He and I were married...a long time. I can see...we had a little girl. She died one winter, when it was very cold."

//Do you know where you are?//

"Northern Minnesota. We live in a settlement outside of a large city--I don't know the name."

//What year is it?//

"I'm not...it's 1894. We tried once more to have children, but I couldn't. The doctors told me I was barren."

//Easy...just memories. Relax into them, don't fight them. Where are you now?//

"I'm...dying. I'm an old woman. My husband is holding my hand and crying. I can feel the life force leaving me, but it's okay. I'm warm and comfortable..."

//Have you left that life now?//

"Yes."

//Are you able to go to any others from there? Can you see any other paths to follow right now? Any memories beckoning you?//

"Yes. I see... I see a large man. He's a foreigner, but I...I love him. He's taking care of me."

//Who are you?//

"My name is Bran."

//What year is it?//

"It's 1067."

//What's the man's name.//

"Geoffrey d'Langue. He's one of William's men."

//William?//

"William the Conqueror."

//Do you know him?//

"Yes. He's Jim.

//Geoffrey is Jim?//

"Yes."

//What is going on here? What do you see?//

"Geoffrey and I are lying in bed...laughing. It's winter, so we can go to bed early. M'lord is pleased with his Saxon because I helped him figure out the best way to redo the store houses in the spring. He leans down and kisses me."

//You're lovers in this lifetime?//

"Yes. I love him very much--and I think he feels that way about me, although he doesn't say it often. I was all alone until he came. I should have been upset with the king giving away my birthright, but since I get to stay on, it matters not."

//What else is happening?//

"Geoff is kissing me, and covering me with his body. He wants to take me tonight, and I want him to...but the door flies open, and--"

//Just memories. Easy, go with them. Nothing can hurt you now. Float above them, and watch them happening.//

*whispered* "Geoff's men come into the room--there are seven of them altogether. Two grab him, and hold him against the wall, two others grab me. I struggle, but can't break free." "They say...they say that they're not happy with the way their lord is putting 'Saxon swine' above them, and they're going to fix that."

//Is it because you're sleeping with him?//

"I don't know. I don't think so. Geoffrey's told me he's been with other men before, tho' he did say I'd be the last. No, I think it's because I'm a Saxon--they hate me for that." *voice drops to a whisper* "They're going to fix it by killing me--I can hear it in their voices. I look at Geoffrey, begging silently for him to say or do something, but he doesn't. Oh, God!"

//What's happening?//

"They've stabbed me! One took his sword and, oh, god, it hurts...I can feel it cutting through me...I'm bleeding now, and they're making Geoffrey watch. Oh, God, I can stand dying...but I can't stand them making him have to watch--I can see tears on his face, he's crying for me. Oh, no, sweet Jesus, they've cut his throat! Oh, God, my lord..."

//Easy, you're okay. They're just memories. Relax. They can't touch you now, you're just remembering what's already happened. All right?//

*nods head* "He's dead. My Geoffrey is dead...and I'm dying...I can feel the life leaving this body. I'll see Geoffrey again, someday...and I hold that thought as the lights around me are getting dimmer..."

//What's happening now?//

"I've left that body. I'm floating free right now."

//Okay, Blair. I want you to listen to the sound of my voice, and follow it back. Count...five, four, three, two...at the next number you'll awaken. Ready...One.//

Blair woke with tears on his face, and a throbbing headache. This was the only part of the hypnosis he didn't like-the headache afterwards. Although from what Dr. Thomas told him it was more likely the regression itself than the hypnosis. He sighed and scrubbed at his face. "God, man."

"I told you this wouldn't be easy, Blair."

"Yeah, I know. Still..." he broke off, considering. "Is it possible that people can be soul-mates, but still be destined to not be with each other? That's twice now that Jim and I have had lives together, and had them cut short."

Dr. Thomas nodded. "Soul mates aren't always together, through the entire life. There might be a reason for you to be separated, one that doesn't make sense at the time, but becomes clear later. For example, perhaps it wasn't meant for the two of you to be men and be lovers at those points in history."

"But that's so totally unfair."

"Life is often unfair, Blair. It sounds as if Bran shared a great love with Geoffrey, even if it didn't last."

"Yeah." Blair rubbed his eyes again. Now he was going to have to walk around all day with sore, dry eyes. Shit.

* * *

Jim entered the museum wondering what exactly Blair's session with his therapist would entail. He'd known his Guide was having a lot of dreams, but he wasn't aware until now how bad they actually were. Blair must have been seriously alarmed by them to seek a doctor's counsel. The older man hoped everything was going well and that his Guide would be okay.

Since the Egyptian gallery had been the only area to suffer damage, Mr. Parker had decided to go ahead and maintain regular hours. In spite of the earliness of the day it was already filling up, and the detective had to skirt around the group of elementary kids giggling in the hallway as he made his way to the cordoned off area.

Ellison ducked under the yellow barricade tape and entered the sabotaged room. Everything was as he had left it Saturday morning, after questioning the museum personnel. His jaw tightened as he recalled what a waste of time that had been. No one had any information that would help with the case, and he was back to square one, depending on the university staff to provide the answers.

A few straggling tourists paused to stare on their way past the gallery, but the barricade tape and the uniformed guard stationed across the hall discouraged anyone from trying to enter. Jim had made sure that the curator and the guards knew that no one but authorized police personnel were to be allowed in, pending the investigation.

He moved over to the wall and studied the symbol and its accompanying message. Remembering Blair's lecture on the cult of Aten, Jim came to the conclusion that the cult must've been resurrected. And with the arrival of the body of their god-like king, it was certain that the situation would escalate. He felt a stab of fear course through his body as he pictured Blair in the middle of it. 'Snap out of it,' Jim commanded himself silently. 'You'll just have to keep a closer eye on him.' He took a deep breath, hoping to ease the sudden tension in his body.

His sensitive nose caught the faintest of odors and he swiveled his head sharply looking for the source. He couldn't identify it, couldn't locate it. 'Damn it, I know that smell if only I could remember why...' The Sentinel pulled in all of his senses but smell, and focused solely on that. Nostrils flaring wide, he relaxed and let the smell carry him. Roses...roses...where? When? Jim's mind refused to make the connection. He reached out to embrace the smell more fully. Unaware of his actions, he fell to his knees and began to pant shallowly as his body tried to take in oxygen.

His mind blindly searched for the answer to his puzzle. He'd smelled the roses before and he knew where. The university...

Coherent thought began fading then as his body started to shut down. His brain focused solely on the center that was processing the scent of roses, and he swayed on his knees, dangerously close to losing consciousness.

"Hey mister," came a high-pitched voice from far away. "Hey mister, we can't find our teacher. Canya help us?"

"Yeah, please help us," another more timid voice joined the first.

Reality came crashing back and he took several deep lungfuls of air, gasping a little as everything came back on line. Focusing on the two little girls, he stumbled to his feet. "You lost your teacher? Come on, we'll find her." He held out his hands and each of the little girls took one.

Jim had recovered--physically--from his zone out by the time he'd safely deposited the girls into their teacher's care. Deeply shaken, he sat in the truck and pondered what had just happened. He hadn't zoned out that badly in a long time, and he'd never been alone for one before. Jim raised a trembling hand to start the truck, reconsidering the implications of working without his Guide. Up until an hour ago it had just been inconvenient, and a little lonely. But this... Of course, if Blair knew he would never let Jim out of his sight, and that wasn't right either.

Jim put the truck into gear and headed back to the station, for once grateful for lost school children.

* * *

Simon was waiting for him and indicated for the detective to join him in his office. He watched as Jim settled himself into a chair. "So, did you uncover anything new?"

Ellison nodded. "I may have a lead, Captain, but I'd like to play it out first. If I'm off base here, we could ruin our chances of closing the case." 'Not to mention losing a good friendship,' Jim added to himself.

Banks frowned, but nodded. "It's your call. Just be sure you keep me informed. There's a lot at stake here."

"Of course. Thanks, Captain." Jim rose to leave.

Simon stopped him. "What's wrong, Jim? You look all done in."

Jim sighed. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Spit it out, Ellison," his captain commanded, voice sounding alarmed.

Jim leaned against the door and folded his arms. "I zoned out big time today while I was at the museum."

Simon's eyes widened. "How did you snap out of it? The kid wasn't with you, was he? No, he wouldn't have been," Simon answered the question himself, "or you wouldn't be telling me this."

"No, he wasn't. A couple of lost school kids happened by, looking for their teacher. Good thing, too. I don't know... if I'd gone any deeper--" his voice cut off, and he looked at his captain.

"Have you told Sandburg? What'd he have to say?"

Jim gazed intently at his captain. "I haven't told him and I'm not going to. And neither are you."

Simon frowned. "Isn't that why he hangs around? To prevent things like this from happening?"

"Yeah, but he's been under a lot of pressure lately what with the exhibit and all. I don't want to give him anything else to worry about. If he knew I'd zoned he'd drop everything else, and he can't do that. Promise me you won't tell him, Simon."

Simon shook his head. "Fine, Jim. I won't tell the kid--but I hope you know what you're doing."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Go on home--you look like you could use the rest."

"Yeah." Jim nodded. "Later, Simon."

* * *

This was familiar, Blair thought. Lying here on the bed, remembering things that he'd forgotten in the many lifetimes since that one. Today's session had been very intense...more than just one life uncovered, and the big one had been draining. 'Jarvis and I have been together too. I need to call him...tell him some of this.' His mind skirted around the real memory that was poking at him, not quite ready to recall the pain that came with it. A tear slid down his cheek, and Blair brushed it away impatiently. Why was he crying? For two men who'd lived ten centuries ago, that he didn't know? Even if one of those men had housed the soul he now called his own? He closed his eyes, deep breathing calming him, centering him.

* * *

_Interlude 2 _

_England, 1067 _

_Bran lay on the bed, naked skin shimmering in the firelight. He reached a hand out to stroke it across his lover's chest, and a big hand caught it, raising it up to place a kiss on the palm. Bran smiled. _

_"I love you, Bran," the older man vowed as he kissed each finger in turn. _

_"I'll love you forever, Geoff. You're everything to me. You've been everything to me." Bran turned onto his side and snuggled close to his lover, head tilting back for the kisses he knew would be offered. _

_Geoff didn't disappoint him, and brought warm lips down to cover his own. A soft tongue pressed against his mouth, and Bran opened to let it stroke across his. The kiss went on and on, deepening until the two men were pressed tightly against one another, bodies straining for the other's touch. Bran flung his head back and arched his chest, begging silently for Geoff's touch. _

_His lover--once the conqueror, now the conquered--pressed him down onto the soft mattress and began sprinkling kisses all along the well-formed torso. He reached Bran's nipples and licked them lovingly. Bran could feel Geoff smile against his chest when he whimpered and arched into the warm mouth. A tongue came out and flicked against the tight little buds mercilessly, and Bran grabbed Geoff's head, holding it tight against him. He shifted and thrust his hips against the other man's, groaning when Geoff thrust back. _

_He was released and rolled onto his stomach. Bran felt his stomach tense in anticipation, and had to work to relax his body when a slick warm finger began probing at his anus. He arched his back slightly, and spread his legs. Geoff sighed above him, and he turned to look over his shoulder. _

_"You've got the most perfect ass I've ever seen, love," Geoff told him as he inserted a second finger and began thrusting gently back and forth. _

_"You've got quite a nice one yourself," Bran gasped, hips raising off the mattress to meet Geoff's thrusts. "For God's sake, Geoff, don't tease. I need you inside me, lover." _

_"Anything for you, Bran. Anything." Geoff moved on top of Bran and placed the head of his cock at the younger man's entrance. Bran willed his body to relax, and felt the engorged organ sliding into his body, it's way eased by the warm oil they'd pilfered earlier. _

_"Ahh, lover...yes..." Bran groaned, his heart contracting as it did every time they did this. He didn't think it was possible to love anyone as much as he loved Geoff. He clenched his body around his lover's, and was rewarded by a gasp. "Like that, eh?" He tightened again, then smiled when warm hands slid along his arms, reaching to entwine their fingers together. _

_"Keep it up, lad, and this'll be over before it begins," Geoff hissed in his ear. _

_Bran groaned as Geoff began moving within him, thrusting long and hard. He arched into the thrusts, body beginning its own rhythm, carrying him along for the ride. He ground his cock into the mattress, the weight of their bodies against it providing just enough pressure to increase his arousal. _

_Geoff began nipping at his neck, sucking at the light bites. Bran turned his head, and Geoff bit him at the juncture of neck and shoulder. He growled at the feel of the teeth against his skin, and tightened around Geoff again. The older man shoved himself deep into him, and Bran felt his body disintegrating as his climax rose over him. He shouted Geoff's name as he came, and was rewarded by the rush of warmth through his mid-section as Geoff came inside him. _

_They lay together for a long time, bodies still joined. Bran finally shifted as Geoff's weight became a bit much, just pressing down on him. He rolled, and felt Geoff move, disengaging from him. A large warm hand stroked his hair as he lay there with his eyes closed. He opened those eyes to gaze at Geoff, wondering aloud, "How'd I get so lucky to have you in my life?" _

_Geoff shrugged, his fingers smoothing down Bran's chest. "I was wondering how *I* got so lucky, Bran. I've never been so happy with anyone before." _

_Bran smiled and stretched into the lazy caresses. "I'd never known such happiness could exist. It's like you complete me...make me whole. I could never be happy without you. M'lord." He said the last to tease, since Geoffrey had long ago insisted he stop calling him that. He did so now only after they'd loved, when Geoffrey was amiable to being teased thusly. _

_"Bran," the older man growled at him. His eyes reflected love and happiness though, so Bran didn't worry about it. _

_"I sometimes wonder what would have happened had the King given these estates to another." _

_"You wouldn't be as well educated, I'm certain," Geoffrey teased him in turn. _

_*That* was a direct reference to how he'd spent last winter, learning new languages and higher mathematics; rhetoric and religion. All the things that a young nobleman needed to know to succeed at court. It was also an indirect reminder to how he-- they--had spent those cold winter nights; Geoffrey tutoring him in the art of love. _

_"I don't want to go to court, Geoff. I'm not cut out to fawn over a king." _

_"Few are--altho' those who are do it well," was the answer. "You'll not go without me, be certain. I'd not let you from my sight, mon cher. You're too precious." _

_"So I don't have to go?" _

_"We'll both go, in the spring. King William likes to see nobles; know how they fare." _

_"You'll be given a wife, Geoff." _

_"There'll come a time, love, when both of us will be given a wife." _

_"I don't want anyone but you." _

_"You've got me for all time, Bran. Wives are something that men of stature are required to have...we don't have to do anything with them but get some heirs; then we leave them to their lives and we have ours." _

_Bran laughed. "That's cold, my love." _

_"Perhaps, but that's the way of things." _

_They were silent for a while, just enjoying each other's nearness, before Geoff turned the conversation to the plans they'd outlined earlier for redoing the storage sheds come spring. Bran had redesigned them to maximize the space available, and Geoff started making noises about having him redo the plans for the new crofters cottages they'd be doing at the same time. Both men laughed, enjoying the ease of their time together. _

_Bran rolled over and kissed Geoff. God but he loved this man. Had loved him since he saw him riding up to the manor house, proud but undemanding; the new owner of *his* estates. The fact that the Norman lord was comfortable enough with himself to make a place in his life--and his heart--for the young Saxon still impressed Bran. There had been no quibbling over who had rights to the manor. It belonged to Geoff by order of the King, but Bran would assist him in running the estate, since he was familiar with it. Somewhere along the way they became friends, then lovers; falling in love with a fierceness that still astonished them both. _

_They lost themselves in each other again, kisses lengthening and deepening. Bran heard the door creak, but dismissed it as an old house. _

_It crashed open with a deafening noise, and seven large men pushed into the bedchamber before shutting the door behind them. They grabbed Bran from Geoff's side, pinning him against the wall. He watched, struggling, as two others grabbed Geoff up and pinned him against the opposite wall. _

_"We've come to take care of the Saxon for you, Lord." Donald, the head knight spoke. Bran recognized the others, but couldn't recall their names as his heart sent adrenaline surging through his system. _

_"What mean you, 'take care of him'?" Geoff's voice sounded shocked and angry. _

_"Why, he's obviously ensorcelled you, Lord. We mean to rectify that." _

_"No!" Bran shouted, struggling with the men holding him. All that served to do was get him cuffed upside the head. He raised his head back up, lip bleeding from where it had struck his teeth. "I haven't ensorcelled anyone. Tell them, Geoffrey!" He begged his lover further with his eyes, pleading silently for him to do something to end this nightmare. _

_But Geoffrey remained silent, either unable or unwilling to speak. Bran wasn't sure which, but figured it was more unable--his lover looked totally in shock now. _

_"The Saxon needs to remember his place--and it's not in the bed of our lord. The best place for a Saxon swine like him is in the ground--feeding the plants." The big knight drew his sword. Light flashed from it, fire glinting in the darkness. Bran sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes against what was coming. _

_The blade pierced his skin, then ran through his body to contact the wall behind him. He could feel the slight vibration as the metal hit the stone. A scream rose from his throat as it was pulled back out and he looked down to see his blood flowing freely from the wound in his stomach. _

_A muffled sound caught his attention away from that horror, and he looked over toward the other wall to see Geoffrey, cheeks wet with tears, struggling against the two men holding him. One held a hand over Geoffrey's mouth, silencing his protests. Oh, God...that they'd make him watch this! It wasn't bad enough that the pigs had to kill him; end the happiness and utter contentedness they'd shared, they were going to force his lover to watch him die. _

_Just as he'd gathered enough breath to protest this, one of the other men drew his dagger from its sheathe, and ran it across Geoffrey's throat. Bran sagged against his captor's arms as he watched Geoffrey's eyes widen in shock and alarm, then slowly fade as the life flowed from him. Bran's own cheeks were wet now, and he could feel the life force within him weakening. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be borne away on the darkness... _

* * *

Blair lay on his bed, tears streaming down his cheeks. What an awful way for a love to end! And all because some men thought that one of them wasn't good enough for the other. He sighed and scrubbed at his face, trying to wipe the tears away. Why is it that Jim and I are separated so early in each of these lives? What is it that is causing that, and how do we prevent it in this lifetime?

They maybe weren't lovers--yet--but if they ever got to that point, Blair didn't want to have it snatched from him like in the last two lives he'd shared with Jim. He snuffled once more, then rolled onto his side, his breathing already evening out into sleep, drained from the heavy emotional recall.

Jim lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The sounds of tears had ceased sometime ago, but the feeling within him, the desire to comfort Blair, remained. He clenched his fists around the sheets, wondering what had caused the tears--praying he wasn't the source of pain. He and Blair had certainly had their ups and downs lately. A deep longing rose up within him, and Jim had to concentrate to keep himself from getting up and going downstairs to hold his friend. He closed his eyes and tried counting sheep; finally, lulled by the gentle sounds of Blair's heartbeat and breathing, Jim slept.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Wednesday, 4/23

When Jim came down the stairs the next morning Blair was already up and dressed, and sitting at the table with some coffee. Well, he was sitting at the table, *staring* at some coffee.

"Morning, Chief," Jim greeted him, wincing slightly at the red eyes that lifted to look at him.

"Hey, Jim," was the quiet response. "How's your shoulder?" Blair gestured to the limb that had caused Jim so much pain a couple of days--*just* a couple of days?!--ago.

Jim shrugged, and moved toward his roommate. "Fine. I haven't noticed it at all since you worked the knots out. Hey, Blair..." Jim hesitated, on unsure footing here. He lifted his hands and rested them gently on Blair's shoulders, fingertips just barely brushing the silky-looking strands of hair hanging near there. "You okay, buddy? You sounded, ah, upset last night, and I..." he trailed off when Blair tensed under his hands. "Sorry. I wasn't listening on purpose...I was just concerned," he finished awkwardly, relief coursing through him when Blair's body relaxed under his fingers.

Blair shrugged slightly, not wanting to push the hands away. "S'okay, Jim. Just some, uh, you know, that dream stuff. Some of it's kind of upsetting sometimes. I'm okay."

Jim removed his hands. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Thanks though...for asking."

"Yeah." Jim stood behind Blair for a second longer, enjoying the heat of his Guide's body, and greedily trying to absorb it. "What do you want for breakfast?"

Blair shrugged again. "I'm not hungry--but there're some muffins in the fridge, if you want them."

"Okay. Guess I'll do that." He turned to go into the kitchen.

Blair pushed his chair back and stood up. "I gotta get to campus. Need to get some work done before classes."

Jim nodded, and watched as Blair grabbed his backpack and left the loft.

* * *

'Why'd he have to touch me? I can do okay with it as long as he doesn't touch me.' Blair shrugged the thoughts off and instead remembered how nice Jim's hands had felt, resting on his shoulders. That perked his mood up a bit, and he smiled the rest of the way to the university.

* * *

Ellison strode into Blair's office later that morning, just in time to catch his Guide in the middle of a monster yawn.

"No sleeping on the job, Chief."

Blair smiled in surprise at him. "Hey. What brings you down here--business, or pleasure. Er, that didn't come out right. Never mind. What's up, man?"

Jim smiled slightly at Sandburg's sudden discomfiture, then frowned as he recalled the reason for his visit. "Business. I've got a few more people I wanted to talk to, and I was wondering if I could use your office as a base?"

"No problem," Blair said, rising. "I've got a seminar to attend that starts in about ten minutes. The guest lecturer is visiting from Samoa."

"Thanks, Chief." Jim poured himself a cup of coffee, then turned and casually asked, "Hey, I need to see Sarina again, too. Know where she's at?"

"Cruising university campuses for dates now, Jim?" Blair asked, just barely managing to keep his tone light. 'Damn, that's great--show the man you're jealous. Good work, Blair.' He snorted in disgust with himself.

Jim frowned. What did Blair mean by that? "No, I just need to ask her a few more questions."

Sandburg shrugged. "I'm not sure where she's at, man. You might want to try the basement."

Jim nodded as his cell phone rang. He reached for it at the same time Blair said "Later", and left the room.

Just down the hall Blair paused, remembering the list of questions he'd wanted to take to the lecture. He turned around and headed back toward his office.

As he approached the door he heard Jim say, "Great. Like I needed something else to worry about." There was a long pause, then Jim's voice again, "No, I told you--I'm not gonna tell him I zoned. And you promised me too, Simon." Pause. "Yeah, well, it's my mistake to make. Right. Okay, Simon. Later."

Blair heard the click as Jim closed the phone through the red haze of anger surrounding him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and reached a hand out to open his door. To his surprise it swung open. Jim stood there, an oddly defensive look on his face. "You heard every word, didn't you?"

"I heard enough." Seminar forgotten, Blair walked across the room and flung himself into his chair, facing Jim. Teacher facing student. "Why didn't you tell me you'd zoned out? When did it happen? How'd you get out of it? Dammit, Jim!" The anger in his voice surprised even him, and he breathed through his nose, trying to control it.

Jim stared at him, face deceptively calm. His next words carried the impact of molten metal though. "I didn't think it was important."

The younger man flushed hotly, and flinched, hearing his own words thrown back into his face. "That's not fair, man."

"Probably not, Chief," Jim agreed. "But now you know how I felt."

Blair felt his temperature--and his temper--soar higher. "Hey, I apologized for that, Jim. What is this? Revenge? You know, you're not following your own advice. What was it you said? 'Keep the lines of communication open. Trust. That's what it's all about, Chief.' Well, trust is a two-way street!"

"You're right, Blair, it is." Jim moved to crouch next to his partner. "I'm sorry for that. No, this wasn't a revenge thing, and I should've told you."

"Yeah, you should've." Blair didn't want to be placated--as long as he was angry with Jim he could ignore the guilt that was beginning to gnaw at him. Zone outs weren't something to take lightly--they were capable of rendering Jim unconscious, or worse, dead. Jim could have gone under to the point where nothing would have brought him back...and it would've been *his* fault for not being there for him.

That thought brought him up short and Blair knew what he had to do. He made a vow to himself to stick close to Jim for the remainder of the investigation.

Unaware of Blair's thoughts and inner-agonizing, Jim laid a hand on his friend's knee and spoke quietly. "I guess we've both learned something, haven't we? No more secrets between us. Deal?"

Blair blinked at the hand on his leg then smiled. "Deal. Wanna get some lunch?"

Jim shifted, moving his hand away. "I thought you had some seminar to get to."

The anthropologist shrugged and stood. "I'm out of the mood now. No big deal; I'll catch the next one. Besides, I'm starved. No breakfast, remember?"

Jim nodded and followed Blair out into the hallway. "Guess I'll do the questioning later...maybe catch Sarina then too."

"Yeah. She'll be working on the exhibit all day tomorrow, at least."

"Speaking of the exhibit, Chief, Simon told me something you'll be interested in hearing."

"Yeah?" The two men walked across the quad to the parking lot. "What's going on?"

Jim told Blair what Simon had said. "The sarcophagus is coming in at the end of next week. It's being accompanied by the Egyptian Ambassador.

Blair whistled as he settled himself into the passenger seat of the truck. "Wow. An ambassador."

"Yeah--fitting for a king, even if he's dead, huh?" Jim smiled briefly. "We're going to be providing extra security for him. What do you feel like eating?" Jim started the truck.

Blair shrugged. "At this point, I could eat anything." He shot his partner a sly grin. "You're buying, right?"

* * *

Friday, 4/25

Blair woke with an odd sensation; a stinging in his stomach. 'Not again,' he groaned silently. He thought he'd been done with the dreams. He rolled over and looked at his clock--four thirty-six, in the morning. Well, at least it was Friday morning, and he had his next regression scheduled for nine am. He rolled his head to look at the clock again, and sighed. It wouldn't be time to get up for nearly two hours. Shit.

He settled back onto his bed, and tried to relax enough to fall sleep again. He didn't want to wake Jim up; it was bad enough he was up without disturbing his friend's sleep as well.

After lying there for what seemed like hours, Blair rolled his head to look once more at the clock. It read four forty-nine. Damn. He got out of bed, his body recognizing the urgent need to relieve itself. He crept around the downstairs, trying not to make any noise. His heart sank when he exited the bathroom to find Jim sitting on the couch, obviously waiting for him.

"What's wrong, Chief?"

Blair shook his head. "Man, I am so sorry. I had another dream...it woke me up. I tried to be quiet so I wouldn't wake you."

His partner smiled. "You wouldn't have bothered anyone else." A pause. "Come on over here, Chief. Sit down for a while."

Blair gave his own little smile and headed for the couch. He sank down onto the end, sighing.

"I thought you weren't having the dreams anymore. I thought that was the whole point to going to the doctor." Jim's voice carried a tinge of concern in it, and Blair turned to look at the Sentinel.

"I guess I'm not cured then, am I? I don't know, Jim--this is an imprecise science. I have another session later today with Dr. Thomas--I'll ask him about it then." Jim's presence was reassuring, and Blair leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. He was still so tired.

Jim heard the younger man's breathing beginning to lengthen and deepen as he slipped back into sleep. He inched closer and sighed with pleasure as Blair's head tilted toward him, finally coming to rest on his shoulder. His Guide gave a sleepy little sigh and snuggled into him. Jim smiled. At least like this, caught between reality and dreams, he could enjoy Blair. He leaned toward his partner, then caught himself. He couldn't kiss him--not without some serious explaining if his roommate woke up during it. A longing spread through him at the thought of tasting that incredible looking mouth, and Jim groaned silently. Capitulating slightly he tilted his head down and brushed his lips across Blair's head. It wasn't enough, but it would have to do for now.

Jim shifted his arm around, and brought it up so that Blair was situated into the crook, leaning against him. Tired himself, Jim soon found he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Without conscious thought, he leaned his head against his Guide's, and allowed sleep to take him.

Blair woke with a stiff neck and a delicious body-wide glow of warmth. He shifted slightly and discovered that he was sitting on the couch, snuggled into Jim's arm--and had apparently been there for a while. He frowned, trying to remember what had happened. He'd woke from a dream of some sort, feeling like he'd been stabbed. A short time later he'd gone out to the couch, and obviously fallen asleep on the couch--with Jim holding him.

'How really weird,' he thought. 'Nice way to wake up though.' A nice way to wake up, but one that would undoubtedly throw Jim into a tizzy. He gently extricated himself and slid off the couch.

Jim woke, feeling bereft. He'd gone to sleep with Blair in his arms, and woke alone. An extension of his hearing confirmed that Blair was still in the loft; his Guide was getting dressed and ready for the day. This was proven when Blair emerged from his room a few minutes later, dressed down to shoes with his backpack slung from his shoulder.

"Hey, man. I'm late--got my appointment at nine today. What's goin' on today?"

Jim shrugged, trying to wake his brain up. "How 'bout I call you, Chief--let you know?"

"You do that, Jim. If I haven't heard from you by lunchtime I'll come down to the station, okay?"

"Sure."

"See you then, big guy."

"Later, Blair."

The door slammed behind the younger man, and Jim sighed, his mind screaming about how empty the loft was without Blair in it. Jim stood up and sighed again, thinking that life had just gotten immensely more confusing.

* * *

"Hey, Doc. Man, I had another weird dream last night." Blair breezed into Thomas' office with the assurance of someone who had the right to be there.

Dr. Thomas looked up from his notes and smiled a greeting. "Do you remember the dream?"

"No--just the sensation of being stabbed again. Like in the Ky regression."

The doctor frowned. "It's possible there's more to that time that's bothering you...something we didn't uncover before. Did you want to do regression today?"

Blair nodded, bouncing from one foot to the other. "Yeah--I want to know what's going on inside my head. I've been thinking about the regressions, and soul-mates; it's like the more I uncover the more I want."

Dr. Thomas nodded encouragingly, and Blair took a deep breath. "I've talked to Jim--briefly, a while ago--about past lives, and all that...and man, he's like a total non-believer. Why is it I've remembered, and he hasn't?"

Grant handed him a cup of coffee. "First of all, there are a *lot* of people who don't believe in reincarnation and past lives--never mind soul mates--so Jim's not unusual. As far as the memories, well... not everyone remembers their past lives, whether they accept the idea or reincarnation or not, and some people have regressions in the form of dreams, and simply consider them as such--and never believe in reincarnation. As for your remembering, things act as triggers. I believe we talked about the sword and how it's played an central role in your life--and death--in your past lives. Why don't we start the regression, and see where we go today?"

Blair nodded.

"Okay then, lie back and relax."

Blair settled onto the futon and closed his eyes, allowing his body to begin relaxing, willing himself to open his mind. He listened to Dr. Thomas' voice, the soothing words drawing him further back into his own but not his own, memories...

//Where are you, Blair?//

"I'm in a room."

//Can you describe it?//

"It's big. Wide, very open. The walls are white."

//Do you know who you are?//

*nodding head* "My name is Silas. I'm a slave."

//A slave to whom? Where are you living?//

"My master's name is Marcus. His house is just outside Naples."

//When?//

"I don't know...the year. My sister was killed last year for being a heretic."

//A heretic?//

"She practiced the new religion, Christianity."

//Are you a Christian?//

"No."

//Do you know your master in this life?//

"Yes. He's Simon."

//Are you mistreated as a slave?//

"No. My life is actually a good one. I'm content.

//What's happening in this life?//

"Nothing happens. I live my life out, and die, an old man surrounded by family.

//You have a family?//

"My master didn't care if I married as long as I knew my children were slaves as well. It didn't matter--he treated us all well."

//Are you still in that life now?//

"No--I've left it.

//Follow the path of the memories, watch where they lead you. Picture yourself stopping in front of a door, and opening that door.//

*smiles*

//Where are you?//

"Sleepin'."

//Who are you?//

"Sarah."

//How old are you, Sarah?//

"Six."

//And you're sleeping?//

"'sposed to be. Me and Jennie are still awake."

//Who's Jennie?//

"My sister. We sleep in the same bed."

//Why aren't you asleep? What's going on?//

"Mama's havin' 'nother baby. I think she had it, 'cause I hear a baby cryin' now."

//Do you know Jennie in your life now?//

"Uh-huh--it's Naomi."

//And the new baby?//

"Jim."

//Really?//

"Yeah. I'm a big sister!"

//Is there anything else in that life?//

"Uh-uh."

//Okay. Picture yourself moving along to the next door then, and stopping in front of it.//

"Okay."

//Reach forward and open the door, and tell me what you see there.//

"I'm in a battle."

//Who are you?//

"Corporal Andrew Hawkes, First Regiment, Alpha Company, Army of Tennessee."

//You're a soldier in the Army?//

"Yes."

//Where are you? Who're you fighting?//

"We're at Chickamauga, fighting against General Rosecrans' army.//

//Do you recognize anyone?//

"No." *pause* "Yes." *pause* "Oh God! Joshua--"

//What's happening? Who's Joshua?//

"Joshua's my...friend. But my enemy too."

//What do you mean?//

"We were best friends as boys, but he chose to fight for the Union, and I went with what I believed."

//You believed in the Confederacy?//

"I believe in the south, and our right to have slaves or not as we choose."

//Do you believe in slavery?//

"Not for myself... Joshua..."

//What's happening with Joshua? Do you know him now?//

*pause* "Yes. He's Jim." *pause* "I see him from a distance. I wish I could talk to him." *pause* "Oh my God!"

//What's happening? Tell me.//

"I've been stabbed! I turned my back for a moment, and the blade slid into me. Oh, no..." *pause* "Joshua's killed me...oh, Joshua..." *crying*

//Joshua's killed you? Easy, just memories...relax, let them flow around you...//

*sobbing* "It hurts...and he's here, kneeling next to me...I never got to tell him how much I loved him...I can't tell him now, because I can't seem to speak..."

//Easy now...Just let the memories slide over you. They can't hurt you...the pain has already happened, in another time. You're simply remembering it. Okay?//

*nods head*

//Were you and Joshua lovers?//

*shakes head* "We never got the chance. I've loved him for a long time...and I think he loved me too, altho' he never said. Men don't love each other like that tho', so we didn't."

//What's happening now?//

"I'm dying...I can't speak, but I'm trying to tell Joshua with my eyes. He's crying, and it's raining, and it's all mingling together with my blood... Oh! He kissed me. A goodbye kiss... Farewell, love... We'll meet again, I know we will. Oh, God, this hurts..."

//Are you still in that life?//

*nods* "Something won't let me go. It's Joshua--he won't release me. I have to find the strength to tell him... He's crying and I'm crying...'I love you, Joshua'...it's growing dark now..."

//Andrew?//

"I've left that life now. I'm nearby--I can see Joshua, still holding the body, crying over it. He's covered in blood and wet, but he won't let go of the body." *long pause* "Joshua didn't understand that our bodies are merely temporary housing for the souls within, and that our two souls are connected and will meet up again."

//Who's speaking now?//

"There are masters at each level of spiritual development, and I am one of those. His is half a soul, meant to be connected with the other's. They complete each other; although they can be content without the other one, together they are whole. Lessons are often hard, and must be repeated before being learned as a whole. We have to accept love in all forms. Gender is not an issue as we do not have a gender. Only bodies have a gender, and they are temporary vessels."

//Will he remember this?//

"Some of it."

//Does he get to progress to the next level?//

"This soul is already at an advanced level. His is an ancient soul, who has learned many lessons. The unfortunate thing is that his soul-companion is a new soul, and has many more lessons to learn. It will be difficult for them, but we believe that the other soul has learned the lesson it needed to in the past."

//They'll be allowed to stay together?//

"That is not what I said; merely that the lesson has likely been learned. Only time will show for sure, and time, like anything else can separate them as well as keep them together."

//No reassurances?//

*silence*

//Who are you now?//

"Blair."

//Are you ready to return now?//

"Yes."

//Follow my voice back through the night, going past all the doors. Do not stop to open them, continue on. You're returning...waking up...//

Blair opened his eyes with a groan. "Oh, *man*, that was intense."

Dr. Thomas eyed him. "What do you remember?"

Blair shook his head. "Images, mostly. That's usually the case though, until I can sit and go over everything."

An absent nod in his direction. "That's good, going over everything. Apparently the sword is a factor in this life as well...do you remember that?"

Blair sighed. "Yeah. Man, this is like so weird--me dying from swords in three different lives--lives I shared with Jim! And here's a sword in this life too now." He paused, reflecting. "Of course, the up side to this one is that *that* sword is just part of an exhibition, and safely locked away."

* * *

Friday evening, 4/25

'Don't keep secrets from me, Chief.' Jim's words rang in Blair's head for the rest of the day. All through class; through following Jim around the station, guarding his Sentinel; through the drive home, dinner and dishes.

'I need to talk to him about this. How do I start? 'Gosh, Jim...do you realize we've had at least four previous lives together, and three of those we were lovers--or close'? Yeah, right. *After* he finished wiping the floor with me, he'd throw me out of the loft.' Blair's thoughts buzzed around inside his head as he sat on the couch, reading through some of his notes from the exhibit. He raised his head to see Jim sitting at the other end, concentrating on the paper.

He took a deep breath and screwed up his courage. "Uh, Jim?"

Jim looked over the paper. "Yeah?"

"Do you ever wonder... Do you think we could've had lives together before?"

"Before *what*?"

Blair sighed. This already wasn't going well. "Just before. As in 'before this one'. Past lives, man. You know: different people, different times, that sort of thing."

Jim shook his head, sighing in a combination of bemusement and resignation. "We've already covered this once, Chief. I told you I don't subscribe to those beliefs. One life, no more."

"Come on, Jim. How do you explain stuff like people just *knowing* something about someone else, or just knowing each other, or being so...so..."

"So what, Chief?" Jim sounded exasperated now. "What's your point here?"

Blair shoved a hand through his hair to brush it out of his face. "Connected, man. Some people meet, and *BAM*--you feel this connection, like you've known each other all along, when you've never even met before. The French have a term for it: Deja vu."

Jim rolled his eyes. "I'm getting a sense of deja vu right now, Sandburg, as in we've already talked about this. You know my opinion on the subject."

"Only too well," Blair muttered under his breath.

The Sentinel heard it anyway, as Blair no doubt intended him to. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Blair rose from his comfortable spot on the couch and began pacing. "That means that you're intractable. Close-minded, if you will. Man, you sit there--you're the living embodiment of something that most other people would scoff at; 'heightened senses'? No way! But at the same time you'll reject the idea of something simply because it seems too left-field to be believable."

Jim stared at his Guide, disbelief etched on his features as he watched Blair work himself into a frenzy over this. He narrowed his gaze then as Blair's words sunk in. "Hey, I'm entitled to my own opinion. If you can't respect that, who's being close-minded?"

Blair sighed, and fight went out of him. He felt so tired all of a sudden. "You're right, Jim. Just forget I mentioned it. I'm going to bed." He turned and headed for his room.

Jim sighed in frustration and exasperation as the door closed in an almost-but-not-quite slam. He felt very ...odd... about that whole exchange. Almost as if Blair had been trying to tell him something that went beyond just the 'do you believe in reincarnation' thing. His sensitive ears caught the faint sound of gasping breath, and Jim extended his sense of hearing to his Guide's room; listened with a aching heart to the quiet sound of sobbing emanating from within.

* * *

Blair threw himself on his bed, tears of frustration already forming. There were too many conflicting emotions running through him right now to begin to sort any out into specifics, but he knew that hurt was at the top of the list. How were he and Jim ever going to connect in this lifetime if Jim kept refusing to let him open the topic? He knew the older man didn't recognize him as his soul-mate, and suspected that was as much due to the way he was raised as anything. Jim had had a whole different upbringing than Blair, who'd been taught to accept that nothing was impossible or improbable...and in all likelihood, plausible. He snuffled a couple of times, the tears coming again in a fresh wave when he thought about how Jim had cut him off.

The sobs tapered off, then began anew. Jim frowned and got up to pace the living room. He needed to do something--needed to make amends. It was his fault Blair was upset...he should've allowed the younger man to speak his piece, and he shouldn't've jumped on him like he did. Making the decision in his mind, Jim knocked on the door and stuck his head in.

"Mind if I come in?"

Blair sat up on the bed, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "What do you want?"

Jim gestured toward the bed. "Can I sit down?"

"What's up, man?"

"I wanted to--" Jim broke off, unsure of how to proceed. "Blair, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to jump all over you, I'm just on edge right now... If you want, when this is all wrapped up, we can sit down and discuss past lives--and you can tell me why you feel so strongly about them."

Blair nodded, but didn't say anything.

"Blair? Is something wrong? I mean *really* wrong?"

"Man, you didn't just jump on me, you were condescending. Just because you *don't* believe doesn't make it not true. I can accept your opinions and beliefs, but man, don't make fun of mine. Okay?"

Jim gazed at his partner, saw the hurt in his eyes. "I really am sorry, Blair. I didn't mean to be condescending--you just really got under my skin with all that." The image jumped into Jim's mind of Blair getting under his skin in an entirely different manner, and he flushed.

Blair watched the warm red spread across Jim's face, and wondered what his friend was thinking that would cause *him* to blush. He shook his head and sighed, wishing he'd never started the damn exhibit; never found the sword; had never started regression therapy. To have all this knowledge and be unable to share it with Jim--the one other person who *should* have it... Tears welled up once again, and Blair bent his head down, not wanting Jim to see him cry.

Jim saw the tears and heard the minute changes in Blair's breathing--the little catches that were indicative of sobs, and acted then on pure instinct. He turned and gathered Blair into his arms, and held him while his Guide cried. Every atom of his body craved the contact with Blair, and he held him as tightly as he dared, rocking them gently.

It was several minutes at least before Blair pulled himself together, cheeks crimson with embarrassment over *that* scene. It'd felt so good having Jim hold him though--he'd needed that. He moved out of Jim's arms, regretting that the larger man let him go.

"Thanks."

"Sure. You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah--just tired, man. Lotta stress, you know? Too much going on in life lately that's all emotion-based. Can't wait for the exhibit to open, and for the case to be wrapped." Blair stopped talking and looked at Jim. "I'm glad you came in here. And I do want to discuss this further, after things settle down."

Jim nodded. Blair didn't say so in as many words, but he seemed to be indicating he wanted him to leave, so he got off the bed. "I'm glad I did too." At the door he paused and turned. "Sleep well, partner."

"You too, man."

He closed his eyes and let his thoughts begin to wander backward as he remembered the latest regression.

* * *

_Interlude 3 _

_Outside Lexington, Kentucky, 1855 _

_"Friends forever?" The blond-haired, blue-eyed boy questioned solemnly. _

_"Forever," Andrew confirmed with a smile. _

_He'd just finished fishing the other kid out of the creek behind his Pa's house. He'd never met a boy who couldn't swim, but Joshua told him that he'd never had the chance--he'd spent his whole life in the city of Philadelphia up until two weeks ago. Andrew had asked what was different about now, and Joshua told him that his father had died recently, and he and his mother had come down to Kentucky to live with his mother's sister. _

_Their vow of friends forever wasn't taken lightly by either boy. They supported each other in any way they could for the next six years. Joshua was there through Andrew's broken arm; his sister's death from pneumonia; his mother's death a year later from milk-fever after delivering the sixth child. Andrew supported Joshua through learning how to swim, and hunt; integrating into a new society; his mother's remarriage, and the subsequent abuse at the hands of that stepfather. _

_Andrew always felt a kinship with his friend; as they were friends longer and longer the feeling grew until he began to feel as though he'd never be complete with Joshua in his life. He turned down one invitation after another to go walking with a girl, or dancing, or any other activity that couldn't or didn't include Joshua. At times he felt very strange about these strong feelings for his friend, since "men" didn't "feel that way" about other men. He asked an older brother once about those feelings, without telling him who generated them. _

_"Sounds like you got it bad, Andy," Sean commented. _

_"Got what bad?" _

_"Love, kiddo. Sounds like you're in love. Who is she?" _

_Andrew shook his head. He couldn't be in love with Joshua, could he? Pa said that men didn't love other men, and had awful names for those who did. Except maybe that only meant men who had physical relations with other men...as long as he never did that, it was okay, wasn't it? He raised his eyes to see Sean staring at him, and smiled weakly. "Sorry. No one you know, Sean." _

_He asked Joshua one time what their friendship meant to him, and the other boy's eyes lit up. "You're my best friend, Andy," he'd replied enthusiastically. "You know that. I don't know what I'd do without you." _

_Andrew felt a warm glow spread through him with those words, and he played them over and over in his mind at night, when he went to sleep. _

_The summer they turned seventeen everything changed. _

_It started so innocently; when the lawyer from Illinois, Abraham Lincoln, ran for President. He was elected, and the bottom fell out from their world, as their country began dividing around them; brothers and best friends turning against each other. _

_In April of 1861, just before he turned eighteen, Fort Sumter fell, and Andrew began entertaining thoughts of enlisting in the Army. He and Joshua had their first real argument about it. _

_"No, I can't go off and fight for something I don't believe in," Joshua told his friend, heat coloring his voice. _

_"What don't you believe in, Josh?" _

_"I don't cotton to the idea of slavery, for one. C'mon, Andy...you don't want to go off fighting for King Cotton, do you?" _

_Andrew felt himself stiffen. "I'm a southerner by birth," he told Joshua. "I feel very strongly about that. I don't believe in slavery--you know my family doesn't--but I do believe in the south; we have a right to do as we see fit, as much as any other folk." _

_Joshua shook his head, and Andrew's heart broke at the sadness in his friend's eyes. "Not when it comes down to the treatment of other human beings, Andy. No one has the right to own anyone else." _

_"I *know*, Josh. I feel the same way!" _

_"But you're willing to fight to preserve the right to do just that. Andy--listen to what you're saying. If you fight for the south, you're condoning slavery--which is as good as owning slaves, if you ask me." _

_"I didn't though, did I?" _

_"Yeah you did--when we started this whole argument." _

_"Well I'm ending it," Andy stated, eyes stinging with the tears he refused to show his friend. _

_"Fine. I'm going home." _

_"Fine." _

_Andrew watched Josh leave, a deep sadness moving through his body. That they could agree on everything else, and disagree on such an important issue... _

_On May 30 1861, they received word in Lexington that the state of Kentucky had elected to remain neutral in the increasingly hostile relations between the Confederacy and the United States. _

_Three days after his eighteenth birthday Andrew joined the Army; enlisting in the Army of Kentucky, which was an extension of the Army of Tennessee--part of the Confederacy. _

_He ran over to Joshua's house to tell him the news. His friend was on the front porch whittling. Andrew pulled up short, suddenly afraid of what Josh's reaction would be. He hadn't been very approachable since their big argument all those months ago, and Andrew had missed his friend badly. He walked around feeling like a hole had replaced his heart. _

_"Hey," he called softly as he walked up to the porch. _

_"Hey," Josh returned, eyes looking down at his hands. _

_"I--" Andrew broke off, a lump forming in his throat. This would be goodbye, he knew it. As soon as he said the words, his 'friends forever' friendship would be over. He tried again. "I joined today, Josh." _

_"The army?" _

_"Yes." _

_"Who're you fightin' for, Andy?" _

_Andrew sighed and sat down on the porch step in front of Josh. "You know the answer to that without asking. I leave tomorrow, Josh." _

_"Didn't give you much time, did they?" _

_Andrew shook his head. "Come with me?" he asked, desperate to have his friend with him. He realized with sudden clarity what he felt for this man, and knew that it was doomed. _

_"I can't do that, Andy." Josh was silent for a long moment after that, then he spoke again. "I leave in three days for home. I'm going to enlist too--for the Union." _

_Andrew felt the sense of doom grow, and spread from his stomach to his entire body. "We'll be sworn enemies," he whispered, unable to even voice it aloud. _

_Josh nodded mutely. Andrew turned to look straight at his friend and realized with a sense of shock that Josh was crying. He felt the tears he'd been holding break free, and with a wordless cry flung himself into Josh's arms. The other man clutched at him, first in surprise, then just to hold him. Andrew cried while Josh rocked him gently back and forth, his tears running into Andy's hair. _

_"It's okay, Andy. War can't last forever." Josh stroked Andrew's hair gently as he rocked him. _

_"I know. I--" he broke off as tears threatened again. "I just wish it didn't have to be like this. You're so much a part of me...we've been best friends..." _

_"Forever," Josh finished for him, voice sounding inutterably sad. _

_"I'll find you afterward," Andrew vowed, voice breaking with the strain of not crying again. "We'll be together again afterward. You'll see. Friends forever." He clung tightly for a minute longer, then pulled back whispering, "I love you, Josh." _

_"Yes," Josh said, releasing him. _

_"I'll see you here after the war." Andrew backed down the steps, trying to memorize his friend's features. _

_"I'll be here, Andy. Waiting for you." _

_Andrew choked back a sob, then turned on his heel; ran as if the devil himself were chasing him. Perhaps he was. Never in his life had anything hurt as badly as that had--not even losing his mother and sister. Joshua was an extension of himself, the other half that made him whole. They were meant to be together, and he'd just broken the bond between them. _

* * *

_There were no letters exchanged between the two, for how to explain corresponding with the enemy? Andrew accepted that he couldn't be friends with his best friend--his love--as long as the country was at war with itself. He did hear from his father from time to time that Joshua was making quite a name for himself with General Rosecrans' division, but other than that, nothing. _

_September 19, 1863 dawned just like every other day that he'd been in this stinking Army, and Andrew didn't expect it would be much different. He was wrong--the General decided today would be the day to keep the Union troops from getting through to Chattanooga. _

_The sun was barely up when the fighting commenced, thick and hard. Andrew was soul-weary of all the killing--like most of the young men who joined that war he had romanticized it, not realizing the realities of battle. He stopped for a brief moment when he thought he spotted Joshua--he hadn't seen him for so long he wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Then he blinked and the apparition was gone; if he'd ever really been there. _

_He turned to head for the back line, and a few moments later a blinding, searing pain shot through him as a bayonet slid through his mid-section to emerge, red with his blood, on the front side of him. _

_Andrew stared at it, disbelieving he was seeing what his eyes told him was there. The landscape swam in front of him, and he sank slowly to his knees as the metal was withdrawn. A loud, shocked voice cried out, "Oh my God! Andrew!" _

_He turned pain-dulled eyes to see Joshua standing there. A sudden tremor ran through him as he realized it had been his friend wielding the bayonet. His eyes filled, and he watched Joshua, suddenly unable to speak. _

_His friend knelt down next to him and cradled his head in his lap. "Andrew...say something, oh my god..." Joshua was crying now, and Andrew felt his tears falling on his face as well. The skies opened up then and the heavens cried with them. _

_Andrew closed his eyes against the pain in his stomach. God, it hurt! He knew he was dying...his only regret was not being able to tell Joshua how much he loved him--what he really meant to him. He could feel the other man's hands holding him, but his body was beginning to grow cold with impending death. He sighed, a tiny sound escaping his lips, and his breathing began to falter slightly. _

_"Andrew...I love you, Andrew. Don't leave, please. Friends forever, remember? Except that you mean so much more than that to me...oh, God...don't take him, don't take him from me..." _

_Andrew smiled faintly before a surge of pain turned it to a grimace. He opened his eyes, stared into the sky-blue eyes hovering above him. 'I love you too, Josh,' he sent with his heart and his mind, wishing Josh could hear him. He closed his eyes again against another wave of pain, then felt soft warm lips press down against his. _

_"Don't leave me, Andy. You told me once that you love me...if you do you won't leave me..." Those eyes begged, and Andrew felt so helpless. He shuddered. He needed to go, and Josh wasn't letting him. He reached deep into himself and gathered all remaining strength. _

_"...love you too, Josh. Let me go, love. Please. We'll be together again..." he stopped to cough, and felt Josh's tears falling on his face. "Promise--let me go, please." It hurt so bad to stay here, the pull was so strong in him. _

_Josh nodded, and covered his mouth once more. "I love you," he whispered again. "Goodbye, friend. Love." _

_The world grew dark and cold, save for the one warm spot where Josh held him. Andrew held on to that for as long as he was able, until the ties to this world were severed... _

* * *

Blair shuddered as he opened his eyes. Jesus. That one was worse than the other two! He'd actually felt Andrew dying. A shiver raced up his spine and he gasped aloud. Three lives, three deaths, three times separated. He was going to break that cycle in this life, no matter what it took.

* * *

 

Continued in Part 2

 

 

 


	2. Time and Again II

**Chapter 7**

Wednesday, 4/30

Blair entered his office and tossed his backpack onto the already cluttered chair. Glancing around, he decided to clear his desk a little before settling down to catch up on all the work he had neglected this week. Since Jim's zone-out a week ago, he'd been true to his vow and had stayed close to the Sentinel.

Unfortunately, hanging around the station this past week had had the young man spinning his wheels. After the excitement of the break-in, things had settled down and it had been rather boring with nothing happening. Even the momentary spike of endorphins which he had felt while helping Jim concentrate enough to describe a man named Sethos to the police artist didn't compensate for the lost work time. The anthropologist finally decided to come to work and get caught up. Amen-hetep IV's sarcophagus was due to be delivered Friday afternoon and he wanted to be free and clear. Besides, staying at the station only gave his body more opportunity to turn traitor at the sight of his Sentinel.

Blair shook his head and started filing the various papers littering his desk. He worked steadily for several minutes before coming across an article he'd been meaning to read, and had assumed lost. He settled in to read, and was soon deeply engrossed; not noticing the passage of an hour.

The anthropologist tossed the finished article down onto his desk and stretched. Time for him to do his real work. He decided to tackle the pile of mail that had accumulated during his absence, wondering as he did so why the whole world wasn't using e-mail yet. He separated the anthropology and history magazines and threw out the junk and bulk mailings. Concentrating on his personal correspondence, Blair frowned as he shifted through it. One particular letter caught his eye and a sense of unease traveled up his spine. Like the previous note, this one had no return address and his name and department were typed in bold capital letters across the front. With a sense of deja vu, Blair opened the envelope and pulled out the single piece of stationary.

Blair shivered as he read the note. It was different than the first. It was a death threat. In the past he might have blown it off, but in light of recent events, he opted to take this seriously. Remembering his promise to Jim, he picked up the phone and dialed the station.

"You have reached the desk of Detective James Ellison. Please leave--" Blair slammed the phone down. Jim obviously was away from his desk.

"Where are you, big guy? You said you'd be at work," Blair muttered in the suddenly too silent office. He tried Jim's cell phone. No answer. "Okay, don't panic. Think Sandburg...Simon!" Blair snatched up the receiver and called Simon's office.

"Banks."

Blair breathed a sigh of relief. "Simon, I'm looking for Jim. Do you know where he is? It's really important."

Simon must have heard the note of panic in his voice, because he didn't hesitate. "He's right here, Sandburg. Hold on."

Moments later, Blair's Blessed Protector was speaking into the phone. "Talk to me, Chief. What's wrong?"

Blair swallowed convulsively. "Um, Jim, I...I was going through my mail and, well, I got a death threat." The young man flinched as if saying the words out loud made the threat more real.

"Sandburg," Jim's voice was tinged with anxiety. "What's the note say? Read it word for word. Don't leave anything out."

"Right now? It's giving me the creeps looking at it."

"Now, Sandburg. I want to hear it."

Blair cleared his throat and began to read:

"Mr. Sandburg: Stop the exhibit at once! You are a blasphemer and all blasphemers are bound for hell. Take heed or you will bring about your own doom. If you wish to live, stop the sacrilege and your life will be spared. If you decide to ignore this, be prepared to pay the price with your life as we will not tolerate such sacrilege. Pain and suffering will be yours before you experience the freedom of death. This is the only warning you will receive..." Blair's voice trailed off. It was a sick feeling to get a death threat. It was almost as if someone was watching your every move. He glanced around nervously and nearly jumped when Jim spoke.

"Sandburg! Get out of there now. Leave your office, get in your car and go home. Do it as fast as you can, you hear me? Get the hell out of there."

Blair pulled the phone from his ear and gave it a puzzled look. If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn he heard a note of hysteria in Jim's voice. As it was, the urgency was unmistakable.

"Sandburg? Blair, can you hear me?"

Blair put the receiver back to his ear. "Yeah, Jim. I'm on my way."

"Do you have your cell phone? Call me on mine as soon as you're on the road. Got it?" Jim spoke rapidly.

"Okay," Blair replied, his adrenaline kicking in as a wave of fear knifed through him. He had to make it to the Corvair in one piece. "I'm hanging up now. Give me two minutes to get to my car."

"Faster!" Jim barked and hung up the phone.

Blair grabbed up his backpack and shoved the note into his pocket. He was racing across the quad seconds later, bypassing students and professors. If anyone called his name, he didn't hear it.

As he neared his car he stumbled to a halt, and stood staring, open-mouthed, face pale, mouth dry. He fumbled for his phone and dialed.

"Ellison. That better be you, Sandburg, telling me you're on your way home."

"Uh, Jim. You'll never believe it, man."

"What?"

"Oh, man. My poor car. Why would someone do this? First bullet holes, now--"

Jim interrupted him. "Sandburg, what the hell happened?"

Blair paused, wondering how to begin. "Man, all four of my tires have been totally shredded," Blair replied.

"Anything else?" Jim asked, sensing his partner wasn't through.

"Yeah..." Blair stared at his beloved car. "Someone painted the sun symbol of Aten on my windshield in red paint, Jim. Too weird."

"Hang tight, Chief--I'm almost there. I'll meet you in front of the anthro building in five minutes," Jim spoke tersely.

"Huh?" Blair sounded dazed. "You're on your way here? I thought you were at the station."

"Blair, just do what I tell you. And stay public. Make sure you're with a lot of people. I'll be right there." Jim snapped the phone shut as he turned onto campus.

The grad student numbly placed his phone into his backpack. Jim was going to be there soon and everything would be fine. He walked mechanically back toward the anthro building, reaching it just as Jim screeched around the corner and drew up in front of him.

He opened the passenger door and got in. Jim was already pulling away before he had the door closed and his seatbelt on.

"Parked in the usual spot?" Ellison's voice was tight, controlled.

"Yeah," Blair still sounded dazed and Jim spared his partner a brief glance.

'Don't worry, Chief,' Jim thought, 'I'm here and I won't let anyone hurt you.'

Blair was speaking. "Why d'you want to know?"

"I'm going to have forensics come out and dust for prints. I'll be taking a look at it myself later, but I want to get you to a safe place first." Jim pulled into the police parking garage and motioned to Blair. "Come on, Chief. Simon's waiting."

Blair looked puzzled, but followed Jim up to the Major Crimes division. "What are we gonna do now?" he asked as they crossed the bullpen to Simon's office.

"*You're* staying here with Simon," Jim began, "and *I'm* going back to check things out. You're not to leave his sight until I come back and pick you up. Got it?"

Blair sputtered for a minute at Jim's dictatorial manner, then opened his mouth to protest. "Now wait just a minute, man. I don't need a sitter! I want to come with you. You *need* me with you, especially after your zone-out last week."

Jim raised an eyebrow as Simon came around his desk. "You're staying here where it's safe. No arguments. I'm going back to the university to check the Corvair, and your office."

"Jim, I should go--"

This time it was Simon who interrupted. "Don't waste your breath, Sandburg. Have a seat."

Blair reluctantly sat in one of the captain's chairs.

As Jim left he said, "I'll be back soon. Stay put."

The anthropologist roamed aimlessly around Simon's office and occasionally ventured out into the bullpen to visit with Brown or Taggert. He felt like a recalcitrant child because he wasn't allowed past the Major Crimes doors. Jim was taking this death threat to the extreme. He wasn't sure what he was going to do about that, but he knew Jim couldn't be his shadow all of the time and he was going to have to go back to work this weekend. He'd deal with that issue later. Blair had long ago gotten used to Jim's protective streak, but it seemed to have gone into overdrive lately and he really didn't have the mental stamina to consider why.

Blair's relentless pacing got on Simon's nerves and he was put to work. He spent most of the afternoon sitting cross-legged in one of Simon's office chairs working, and didn't notice that the day had turned into night until Taggert came in to wish him a goodnight.

"Is it that late already?" Blair asked, looking up.

Taggert gave him a strange look and indicated the window. "Sandburg, it's dark outside. You didn't notice?"

"Guess not." Blair shrugged. "I wonder where Jim is. He said he wasn't going to be long."

"He went to the university, right?"

Blair nodded.

"He called in about an hour ago. Seems that a few protestors have gathered over there. Only a few, he said, but he wanted to talk to them. Then he said he had to see someone before he was going to head back." Taggert replied.

The younger man looked surprised. "Why didn't Simon tell me he called?"

"Probably didn't want you to try to take off on him." Taggert smiled. "After the time you ditched me, I'm sure he didn't want to take the chance that this new info would send you running to the university."

Blair ducked his head in apology, remembering the time that Jim had disappeared. "I wouldn't have done that, Joel. The protestors have been there off and on since news of the exhibit became public knowledge. There haven't been too many of them and they've been very peaceful. The campus police have been dealing with the problem, but I guess Jim wanted to check into it."

"He doesn't like to leave anything to chance." Taggert yawned.

'You don't know the half of it,' Blair thought. Aloud he said, "Man, go on home. You look beat."

"It's been a long day," Taggert agreed. "Goodnight, Blair."

"Night, Joel. See you tomorrow." Blair watched the other man cross the bullpen, only stopping to speak briefly with Simon who had been talking to Rafe.

Standing and stretching, Blair capped his pen and headed for Jim's desk. He was all done with the work Simon had given him and he decided he might as well catch up on some reading. Settling himself into Jim's chair, he pulled a textbook from the bottom drawer of the desk. He was about to open it when Simon walked up to him.

"Sandburg, I just got a call from the lab. They went over the Corvair with a fine-toothed comb, and it looks like they were able to lift a partial print. It's being run through the computers now. Hopefully, we'll know something soon."

"Man, it was totally trashed. Are you guys finished with it? Can I move it?"

Simon nodded. "They took pictures to use as evidence. I suggest you call your insurance company and see if they cover vandalism."

"I already did," Blair replied. "I think they're beginning to wish they'd never heard of me, but they're taking care of it. I'll get someone out there tomorrow to replace the tires. It'll be an eyesore until then."

Simon laughed. "Don't worry about it, Sandburg. It'll get fixed and you'll get it back. I'm going into my office and try to get a few more things done. Holler if you need anything."

"Sure thing, Simon." Blair turned to his book.

Sometime later, Jim walked into the bullpen. He glanced around for his partner, wanting to get back to the loft as soon as possible. He was tired, and wanted nothing more than to make an early night of it. Based on what he'd found today--that he was going to have to share with Blair--tomorrow was going to be a long day. 'And that doesn't even count when the Ambassador arrives,' he though with a renewed surge of weariness.

He spotted Blair sprawled in his desk chair reading an anthropology textbook, and noted his Guide's slumped shoulders and drooping eyelids. It was still early for either one of them to be so tired, but the incredible amounts of stress, worry and the increased workload had created a lethargy in both of them. More so for Blair who made it a habit to stay up past two in the morning most nights. He sighed, wanting only to get his Guide home safe.

"You ready, Chief?"

Blair looked up startled, noticing Jim for the first time. "Hey, man, where have you been? You were supposed to be back hours ago. I ended up having to write Simon's reports. God, I thought yours were bad."

Jim smiled, wearily. "We'll talk about it in the morning."

"But Jim, what did you find--"

"I said *tomorrow*, Sandburg." Jim headed for Simon's office. "I'm going to report in to Simon and then we're leaving. Make sure you're ready to go when I'm done."

Blair's sigh turned to a yawn as he waited for Jim's return. He tucked his book back into Jim's desk where it was stored in case of an emergency, and put his head down on the desk. He didn't know how long he sat there, dozing, before Jim and Simon walked out the captain's office.

"...I put that APB out that you requested, Jim. Hopefully we'll hear something soon." Simon was saying.

"Thanks, Captain." Jim collected Blair with a nod and the three men shared the elevator to the garage. "It's my only lead right now. I hope like hell we get this case wrapped up soon."

Banks looked at them. "Soon, Jim. Then you two can take some time off."

"Sounds good, Sir. I'll remind you of that." Jim smiled. "Goodnight, Simon. Thanks for looking after Blair." He unlocked the Expedition.

His companion rolled his eyes. "God, man, you make me sound like a kid who can't take care of himself." He waved at Simon and got into the truck.

Jim settled in beside him and started the engine. "If the shoe fits..." His voice trailed off into a grin.

Blair shot him a dirty look and lightly smacked him on the arm. "There you go again, trying to be funny. Guess you flunked clown school, huh?" He smiled.

"Yeah, people like you gave me too much competition." Jim laughed.

Blair stared at him a moment before laughing with him.

* * *

Thursday, 5/1

Jim sat in the pre-dawn darkness. Cool air drifted in from the open balcony doors and caressed his bare skin. He knew he should be asleep--he was so tired his body ached--but what was expected and what usually happened didn't always amount to the same thing.

He'd awakened about an hour ago, gripped in the shadow of a nightmare he couldn't remember now, with a sudden need to make sure his friend was all right. He eased quietly down the stairs, and stopped at Blair's partially open door; stood there for long moments just watching the figure within sleeping. So reassured, Jim had gone out onto the balcony to stare unwaveringly at the sleeping city. He didn't know how long he'd stayed out there before moving back into the loft and sitting on the couch. It really didn't matter. His thoughts had already drifted to later that morning and the conversation he was going to have with his partner.

Jim sighed and shifted to lie on the couch. Curling a muscular forearm under his head, he pondered the inevitable argument that would take place when the sun rose. How would Blair react to the news? Would they be able to work through it together? He hoped so. Too many things had gone wrong between them in the past few weeks. Subtle changes had occurred in their relationship, but he couldn't define them--he just knew things were different. Fear grabbed him suddenly, fear of losing Blair. He didn't want to lose his Guide, couldn't stand it if he did.

Soft, gentle breathing underscored by the regular thud of a heartbeat reached Jim's ears. He blinked drowsily and focused on the reassuring presence in the next room. The musical sound of air escaping kissable lips eased the older man into a peaceful sleep, a smile on his face.

* * *

Blair was up and dressed early, ready to face the day in spite of the death threat hanging over his head. He'd slept better than he had in a long time, a deep sleep not disturbed by strange dreams or phone calls. 'Maybe,' he mused, 'it's because Jim and I are finally settling back on track. For a while there, we weren't even on the same train.' He eased out of his room and stopped short. Eyes widening in surprise, Blair made his way to the somnolent form on the couch.

He sat down on the coffee table and reached a gentle hand out, laying it on Jim's shoulder. For a moment, the younger man allowed himself the pleasure of feeling the corded muscle beneath his hand. Closing his eyes, he kneaded the shoulder lightly, knowing that he would have to tell Jim he was in love with him soon.

He sighed and opened his eyes, and gently shook the sleeping man. "Jim? Wake up."

Jim shifted and mumbled, "just a few more minutes, lover."

Blair froze. Surely his friend hadn't just called him 'lover'. 'I wonder who he'd dreaming about,' the younger man thought with a tinge of jealousy. Just the same, a gentle warmth infused his heart and a slight smile crossed his face. "Jim?" He spoke louder, giving the powerful arm another shake.

"Blair?" Jim's sleepy voice sounded. "That you?"

"Yeah, big guy. Who else would it be?" The smile became a grin.

There was an answering grin on Jim's face as he slowly sat up. "Right. Who else."

The older man didn't even try to avoid bumping into Blair as he swung his legs to the floor. A shiver of emotion vibrated through him as Blair's blue-jeaned knees contacted with his bare ones. Their gazes locked for what seemed like endless moments before the younger man tore his away and rose to his feet. He moved a safe distance from Jim before saying, "Guess I'll start breakfast while you get dressed."

Jim nodded and the awkward moment slipped away under the pretense of normalcy.

"Good idea. Maybe you could make something different? Something not eggs? I feel like a change."

Blair nodded and made his way toward the kitchen as Jim stood and stretched. "Sure. How 'bout Belgian waffles?"

Jim's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You can make those?"

The other man laughed. "I'm a man of many talents, Jim."

"I'm sure you are," came the dry reply. "Throw in some bacon and coffee and we'll have a real breakfast. These last couple of weeks have been too rushed, and we're not in any hurry this morning."

'We're not? That's weird.' "Sounds good to me," Blair replied. He began rummaging in the cupboards for ingredients, and Jim disappeared into the bathroom.

Minutes later, clutching a towel around his waist, the older man stepped out of the bathroom. He sniffed appreciatively at the delicious smell wafting from the kitchen.

His stomach growled loudly, prodding Jim to hurry up the stairs to his bedroom. Dressing quickly he returned to the lower level and walked into the kitchen just in time to catch Blair gesturing wildly with his arms, a dripping spoon in one hand. He was humming an oddly familiar tune.

Jim burst out laughing and Blair turned to grin at him. "What're you *doing*, Sandburg?"

The younger man shrugged, blue eyes twinkling. "Walking like an Egyptian, man."

The detective groaned as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "Oh, man. Is that the song you were humming?"

"Uh-huh."

"Bad, Chief, bad."

"Oh come on, Jim," Blair set two plates of waffles and bacon on the table. "I couldn't resist. The Ambassador's coming in tomorrow. It seemed appropriate."

Jim snickered as he and his partner took seats at the table. "Appropriate. Only you, Chief." He began to eat.

"*I* thought it was funny," Blair defended as he picked up his fork.

"Oh, yeah, whatever it was you were doing when I walked in here sure was, " Jim agreed between bites. "I don't think you should be entering any talent shows anytime soon, though."

"Why not? I do a pretty good Macarena, too."

Jim bit into a slice of bacon and chewed thoughtfully. "Yeah? Well, from what I saw, my advice is for you to stick to anthropology."

Blair laughed. "Want any more? I made plenty."

"Give me a chance to finish what I've got and then I'll probably have seconds. These are good, by the way."

"Thanks. You were right--we haven't sat down and had a real breakfast in a while. It's a nice change."

Jim nodded, and they finished breakfast in a light, happy mood.

* * *

Blair was rinsing the plates and setting them in the strainer when he asked, "Hey, you never did tell me what went down yesterday after you left me at the station."

Jim dried his hands on a towel, feeling the mood they'd enjoyed slowly start to fade. "Yeah. We've got to talk, Chief."

Blair focused his attention on the somber tone. Brow furrowed he asked, "What's wrong, Jim? Did something happen? Oh, man-not another zone-out!"

"No, not another zone-out. Something else. Have a seat." Jim indicated the kitchen chair Blair had been occupying earlier.

The younger man sat as Jim leaned against the counter and faced him. It was quiet for a minute. Finally Jim spoke, "I didn't zone out, but it does have something to do with the one I had last week."

"Yeah? You never really did explain what happened that day. Was it something you've never experienced? Something we've never dealt with?" Equal parts of alarm and fascination, Blair spoke rapidly.

Jim held up a hand to stop the questions. "No, Chief. Nothing like that. I don't know if I ever told you exactly what I zone out on. While I was at the museum, I smelled roses."

"Okay," Blair encouraged. "Go on."

"Not roses exactly. There was oil and very faint traces of chemicals I couldn't identify. Probably zoned trying to figure it out."

His Guide nodded. "Perfume?"

"Yeah, that's what it was. Anyway, I finally figured out where I had smelled it before."

"Where?"

The detective hesitated. "Sarina Collins wears a perfume that smells like roses."

Blair frowned. "So? What's that got to do with anything?

"Blair, you aren't paying attention." Jim moved closer to him, and tousled his hair gently, briefly. "I think she's the one who hit you."

Blair's eyes widened and he jumped to his feet. "No way, man! Sarina's not capable of hurting anyone."

"Listen to me. The rose perfume was at the museum. That ties Sarina to the break-in."

"That's really weak, Jim. Lots of women wear floral-based perfumes and the museum has a lot of people going through there every day. And how do you even tie that to Sarina supposedly hitting me on the head?" Blair's voice rose angrily.

"My gut instinct--the one *you're* always telling me to trust!--tells me Sarina's involved in this somehow. Now, it's entirely possible I'm wrong, but let's look at what we know. Think you're up for that?" Jim stared intently at his partner.

Blair's mouth set into a grim line. He nodded tersely and sat back down, arms folded across his chest in a 'keep-away' stance.

The detective took a deep breath. "Okay. First, not too many people know about the special package arriving tomorrow. You said yourself that only a couple of you at the university are aware of the existence of this mummy and its sarcophagus. Sarina is one of them." Jim watched Blair's mouth open and he held up a hand to forestall the protests. "Let me finish. African culture also happens to be Sarina's area of expertise."

"That's *not* enough to convict her, Jim."

"Now, let's talk opportunity," Ellison ignored the interruption. "Sarina knew the artifacts would be moved to the university from the museum. Again, she's one of a handful of people who knew that. Next, she's the one who found you unconscious in the early morning hours. What was she doing there so early? Even if she was there to help you, Sarina is one of only four people who have access to that basement and the artifacts. You were out cold. Dr. Hathaway was in Seattle attending a convention. Michael Patterson was at home; his roommate Jarvis Deacon confirmed that. Sarina was the only one with access, Chief, who doesn't have an alibi that we can confirm."

Blair was shaking his head, not quite believing that Jim was standing there accusing a friend of his of the heinous activities of the previous month.

"Then there's the conversation I overheard last week," Jim continued. "Remember the composite drawing you helped me with? Well, that guy, Sethos, was talking to Sarina about you, and the exhibit. He seemed to know more abut it than he should have."

"So?" Blair shot back defensively. "Sarina could have told her boyfriend about it. After all, I told *you*." His face flushed as he thought how that sounded. He hoped Jim wouldn't notice, and chalk his red face up to anger.

Jim was skeptical. "Sarina's in love with you, Sandburg. I realized that early on, and the conversation I overheard only confirmed that." He shook his head. "No, Sethos and Sarina aren't involved romantically. I think they're working together. Knowledge and opportunity, Chief. She's a prime suspect along with this Sethos character. We don't know much about him, unfortunately. A database search of our domestic agencies didn't tell us anything. We're still waiting to hear back from Interpol."

"Come on, Jim. Aren't you being a little quick to judge here? You said you could be wrong and that you didn't have all the info. What about motive? What could Sarina have to gain from all of this?"

Jim's voice was quiet when he replied, "Religious fanatics don't need motive, Chief."

Blair's face drained of color. "You think she's a member of the cult, don't you," he whispered, a sick feeling of despair rising in him. Jim was rarely wrong--especially when he was going on instinct. To admit that he was right though--that meant that Sarina had betrayed him...and that his character judgment was faulty. God, what did Jim know, to make this conclusion, that he hadn't told him? Didn't he trust him to remain objective? 'Which you're not,' the voice in his head taunted. He rose to his feet, needing desperately to get out there.

A hand on his arm stopped him. "Where do you think you're going, Sandburg?"

Blair turned to face Jim, steps away from the front door and freedom. "I'm going out, man. I need to think, work things out in my head."

Jim indicated Blair's room. "You can do that just fine in there, or on the balcony. You're not going anywhere, Chief, at least not by yourself. Or did you forget about the death threat you received?" Jim's voice was quiet, but the words carried an impact nonetheless.

Blair stiffened. "Do you think I could forget something like that? Look, Jim. I'm not the bad guy here--I don't see why I have to be the one who's locked up. I can't stay in the loft forever, you know."

Jim sighed and stepped back, allowing the younger man a little breathing room. "I know you can't, Chief. It's just that this whole case has me on edge. I have nothing but suppositions and possibilities--nothing really concrete."

"You seemed to have everything you needed a few minutes ago," Blair replied bitterly. "I thought Sarina did it."

Jim gave him an exasperated look. "She's a *suspect*, Sandburg. She hasn't been tried and convicted of anything. But I *know* she's involved, and that it goes way beyond that. Others have to be involved. This is not a solo project. And there's still Sethos to consider. Where does he fit in?"

Blair leaned back against the door, arms crossed. "That's the guy we had the composite drawing done on, right? Jim, have you even talked to Sarina about him--about all of this? Maybe she doesn't know this Sethos person very well--what you heard could have been circumstantial, or a coincidence."

Jim shook his head. He could see Blair's reluctance to believe badly of his friend and colleague, but the detective knew that his partner was now at least considering what he'd told him. With his intelligence and his knack for piecing together puzzles, Blair had to accept the possibility that Sarina was involved, given the evidence--however circumstantial. Unfortunately, he was about to drop the biggest incriminating piece against her.

"We can't find her, Blair. She hasn't shown up for work, hasn't been to class--hell, she hasn't been to her apartment in at least three days. We put an APB out on her...hopefully she'll turn up soon."

"I just saw her..." Blair began, a note of--what? sadness? betrayal?--in his voice.

Jim ached at having to do this to his friend. "Before yesterday," he said gently, "you hadn't been on campus for almost a week."

Blair stared at the floor, uncertain of what to say. As Jim opened his mouth to speak the phone rang.

The detective moved to pick it up. "Ellison." Pause. "Yeah, Simon, what'd you turn up?" Jim nodded, eyes flashing toward Blair. "It figures. Okay. Thanks."

"What'd he say? Have they found Sarina?" Blair asked as Jim hung up the phone.

"No. They found a match to the partial fingerprint we found on your car yesterday. Interpol identified him as Sethos Hasan. He's a former priest who's wanted in connection with the bombing of an Egyptian museum that killed five people. He's also a suspect in an attempted bombing of King Tut's tomb." Jim paused, then shook his head. "The file photo of him matches our composite. This guy's crazy, Chief."

Blair's mouth tightened. "Man, this really sucks." He paused, considering all of Jim's statement. "A former priest, huh? That's wild. But I just don't see Sarina getting involved with someone like that. She's an academic, working on her Masters in African culture for cryin' out loud! Not a terrorist or a religious fanatic."

Jim shrugged. "She knows him--that right there is incriminating. As to why she'd help him...that's something else. We'll have to keep looking for her, get her side of things."

"There's still a chance you're wrong about her, right? You can't prove anything without talking to her first."

"Right. But I have to tell you it doesn't look good."

Blair sighed and started for his room. "I think I'll go work on my dissertation for a while. Maybe finish writing up the final for my intro class."

"Chief?"

The younger man paused in mid-stride. "Yeah?"

"I know none of this has been easy, but I...still need you."

Blair smiled briefly. "I'm your back-up, man. You can always count on me--even if we don't see eye-to-eye on some things." Blair closed his mouth, then opened it; then closed it again.

Jim watched him with a raised eyebrow. "What? Spit it out-it couldn't be any worse than the last hour or so has been."

"I have to work on the exhibit this weekend, Jim. Most of it's just positioning of the pieces, and finishing touches on the tableaus, but it's got to be done. Mostly I have to work on the Aten display. It's the center of the whole exhibit. Think you can handle me doing that, man?"

"We'll work it out," Jim said, careful not to make any set-in-stone promises. "Go on, work on your dissertation. Maybe you'll be done with that thing before my senses stop working from old age?"

"Ha. Very funny. Hey!" Blair's eyes lit up. "How about doing some experiments?"

The Sentinel rolled his eyes. "Go. I've got things to do."

"Later though, right? I mean, fair's fair--if you're gonna keep me locked up here all day."

Jim's face softened. "Yeah, Chief. We'll do some later."

* * *

Friday, 5/2

"Wow!" Blair exclaimed. "Look at all those reporters."

Jim nodded. "What else would you expect with an Egyptian Ambassador flying in and most of Cascade's top brass waiting for him."

The two men stood in the crowded airport, waiting for the ambassador and his entourage. Blair glanced out of the window at the runway, expecting the plane any minute now. It was a fairly bright afternoon and he had to squint.

"You know, Chief, maybe we oughta go rescue Simon."

Blair turned from the bright glare to his partner. "Huh?"

Jim indicated across the waiting area to Simon. The captain of the Cascade police department was having a conversation with two other gentlemen, looking like he'd just swallowed a bug.

Blair laughed. "Isn't that the Mayor and the Chief of Police he's talking to?"

"Yeah," Jim was grinning. "Doesn't look like he's having too much fun. He always did hate tap dancing."

"Guess you'd better go get him then." Blair was still smiling.

Jim wound his way through the crowd of media and police personnel until he was standing just behind his friend. "Sir," he called to Simon, who turned around with a grateful look on his face, "Excuse me, but I need to speak with you a moment."

"Will you excuse me, gentlemen?" Simon waited for the nods before moving away with Jim. "Thanks--I needed that."

Jim smiled. "No problem. I did want to tell you that everything's been set up at the hotel. Cops are already stationed at the penthouse he'll be using. As soon as he disembarks, he'll be escorted over there. Blair and I will see that he's taken care of before returning to the university to make sure the mummy has arrived and is locked up safely."

Simon nodded. "Good. I take it that some of our men here will be escorting the artifacts to Rainier?"

"Yeah--it's already been taken care of." Jim moved toward Blair. "Plane's coming in, sir. I suggest we get ready."

The policemen joined the Mayor, the Chief of Police, and their various personnel at the arrival gate. Brown, Taggert and Rafe met them at the front as the plane taxied to a stop.

Jim turned to the three men. "Everything okay?" Taggert nodded.

People began emerging from the plane then, and Jim turned his attention to that. He identified at least two personal bodyguards and several other personnel attached to the office of the Ambassador, as well as the Ambassador himself.

"Which one's the Ambassador," Brown questioned from behind Jim.

The detective replied, "The gentleman in the grey suit is Ambassador Abu el Ka'ab. The other one is his personal advisor, Keb Boussard." He was thankful he'd had the foresight to examine the dossiers of both men.

The Mayor stepped forward and introduced himself and the rest of the welcoming party. Jim was introduced specifically as being in charge of the security detail, and he moved forward to shake the Ambassador's hand in welcome.

The large group made their way through the airport terminal toward the motorcade. Jim kept glancing around him, senses open to potential sources of trouble. The other members of his team were also looking around, constantly scanning the area. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the ambassador, safely ensconced in the center of the group, speaking earnestly to the mayor; his two bodyguards flanking the duo, and his advisor a step in front of him.

'Looks like everything's under control,' Ellison thought and glanced to his left. Blair was striding along next to him, also looking around. He'd been with the detective for so long that he'd picked up certain habits.

Jim, not liking the fact that Blair was on the unprotected outside of the circle of security, unobtrusively stepped back, letting Blair take the lead before shifting to the outside. Air whistled past his teeth in relief now that Blair was safely inside the circle. The younger man didn't notice the maneuver and quickly struck up a conversation with the advisor. By the time they'd reached the vehicles his partner was so involved in his conversation that Jim had to grab Blair's arm to prevent him from getting into the car with the man.

He led Blair to the truck as Simon issued last minute orders for conveying their Ambassorial guest safely to the Cascade Towers Hotel.

He tuned out Simon and focused on Blair who was talking, gesturing expansively. "Man, Keb is so *interesting*. He was born in Zanzibar. His dad is French, and was with the diplomatic corps, and they were located there for a while. When his dad retired they moved to Cairo, 'cause his mom is Egyptian. He got his degree from *Oxford*, then moved back to Egypt, so he could be closer to his folks--and because he wanted to follow in his dad's footsteps and get into the diplomat scene."

There was no mistaking the slight tinge of hero-worship in Sandburg's voice, and Ellison rolled his eyes. "I know, Chief. I read the file." He shook his head. "I can't believe you got all that from a five-minute conversation."

"It's a talent, man. Remember, I'm a man of--"

"Many talents." Jim finished for him. "Right. It's BS, is what it is," he said dryly. Jim turned the truck onto the street, and followed the ambassador's motorcade toward the hotel.

Blair laughed. "Technically, BS is a form of male bonding, remember?"

'Just as long as you don't bond too closely with him,' Jim thought then frowned. That sounded almost like jealousy. He'd have to keep an eye on that. Lustful feelings for his friend were one thing, but jealousy? That implied other emotions he still wasn't comfortable exploring. Aloud he replied, "Whatever," and left it at that.

The motorcade wound its way through Cascade to the hotel, and they were soon escorting the ambassador upstairs to the penthouse. Jim was careful to explain about the security measures the Cascade P.D. had set up. There would be six pairs of guards that would rotate four-hour watches; thereby guaranteeing alertness. He introduced the first watch, noting with relief that his men and the ambassador's own bodyguards took careful note of each other--that way everyone working together knew who the others were. The detective also left his and Simon's cell phone numbers, in case something went wrong with the guards.

"Is there anything else you need to know, sir?" Jim had dismissed the other men who'd acted as bodyguards during transport, and was now preparing to leave himself.

"Please, Detective Ellison," came the ambassador's softly accented voice, "have a seat. There is something I would very much like to discuss with you."

Jim raised an eyebrow and sat across from the ambassador in an overstuffed chair. Blair moved behind him, and placed a hand casually along the top of the chair. His fingers dangled slightly, barely touching the back of Jim's neck. To those present he resembled a lion standing watch over his territory, and when he shoved a hand through his mane of hair, the effect was heightened.

"What is it, sir?"

"Your captain," the ambassador indicated Simon, who was giving his own last minute instructions to the guards, "says that you recently had some trouble with the Egyptian exhibit at one of your museums."

Jim tightened his lips as he nodded. "We did have some trouble, sir. Someone broke in and vandalized the gallery. From symbols left at the scene we've come to the conclusion that it's directly related to the exhibit; specifically to the cult of Aten."

The ambassador frowned. "May I ask how you arrived at this conclusion?"

Jim explained that none of the artifacts had been present at the museum at the time of the break-in, and that no other part of the museum had been touched. "My partner," Jim indicated Blair behind him, "explained the meaning of the sun symbol that the vandals painted on the wall, and we've had other instances of since then. That led us to the cult of Aten."

The ambassador turned sharp eyes to Blair. "Ah yes, Mr. Sandburg. You are in charge of that great undertaking known as the exhibit. Dr. Hathaway and I have corresponded throughout these past months and he's quite impressed with your work. I'm looking forward to attending the opening next week."

Blair blushed with pleasure at the unexpected kudos. "Thank you, sir."

The ambassador turned his attention back to Jim. "I'm terribly sorry to hear about the misfortune that seems to have plagued the exhibit. The cult of Aten is an old religion, thought to be long forgotten. Unfortunately, it seems that with the discovery of the mummy of King Amen-hetep that has changed. Some of my people take the treasures of Egypt and their significance very seriously. They do not like seeing artifacts leave our country. I myself do not subscribe to that belief. Sharing one's culture increases one's awareness and tolerance. It is the only way world peace might be achieved."

When the ambassador addressed Jim again Blair allowed his attention to wander slightly. He'd decided to make a statement--even if just to himself--that Jim was his, and did that by claiming a place right behind him where he could stand and look down, observing. He laid his hand on the top of the chair-the backrest--allowing his fingers to dangle unobtrusively--hidden by Jim's head--and gently brush the short hairs on Jim's neck. He wiggled his fingers slightly, delighting in the feel of the soft bristles of Jim's hair. A grin threatened, and Blair tuned himself back into reality, trying to arrange his face in a neutral mask.

"I understand, sir, and I agree with you completely. The Cascade P.D. will do everything in its power to ensure the success of the exhibit." Jim leaned back in his chair, and a tremor of sensation raced down his spine. Was Blair caressing his neck? He drew in a deep breath and tried to school his features into something bland and presentable when what he really wanted to do was pull Blair over that chair, into his lap, and onto his--

"That is good to hear, detective. We must persevere. Unknown foes must not destroy the goal of peace."

"Very good, sir." Jim rose shakily to his feet, trying to quell the urges rising in him. He needed to get his mind back on track here. Of course, the visual images flashing through his brain were a lot more entertaining than the political doubletalk that was beginning to get on his nerves. "We need to be going now, sir, but we'll see you at the press conference tomorrow morning."

The ambassador nodded. "Yes, duty calls you, does it not?"

"Yes, sir. Have a good night." Jim headed for Simon, who'd been standing unobtrusively by the door, waiting for his detective to finish up.

"Nice meeting you, Ambassador," Blair nodded as he followed Jim.

"Be well, my friends," the ambassador called after them.

* * *

The three men rode the elevator to the ground in silence, each deep in their own thoughts about the ambassador, the artifacts, and the crime that seemed to be weaving itself in a tighter circle around them. They parted ways then; Simon to his car to return to the station, and Jim and Blair to the truck to continue on to the university to check on the dead king's remains.

Once inside the truck Jim turned the air conditioner on, trying to quell the heat that was flowing through his body like so much fire. Having the object of his desire sitting less than three feet away wasn't helping; neither had the tiny little touches that he *knew* he hadn't imagined. He shifted slightly to put his seat belt on, groaning silently as his hand passed over his over-heated, highly sensitized flesh. Thank god for loose pants that hid erections--he was worse than a teenager.

"Jim. Jim? Hey, man--are you trying to freeze me out here?"

He turned to Blair, the question dying on his lips when he realized he still had the A/C on full blast. "Sorry, Chief. Whataya say we go check on the king, make sure he arrived okay, then grab a bite to eat."

"Sounds good to me." Blair threw him another strange look, but didn't ask about the air conditioning.

Jim put the truck into drive, and they were off.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Sunday, 5/4

"Let's get a move-on, Sandburg--I don't want to spend the entire day over there."

"Yeah, yeah...hang on."

Jim stood by the door of the loft, leaning impatiently against the wall. Actually, he wasn't really impatient, but he didn't want Blair to know that he was kind of looking forward to this. After all the hoopla over the last twenty-four hours, he was actually curious about getting a look at the exhibit and Aten artifacts.

*Especially* after yesterday. Jim sighed thankfully that Saturday was over. *That* had been nothing but a bunch of politicians and reporters and one big headache. After spending the day wading through media cameras and bodyguards; dealing with the security necessary to transport the Aten crates, and everything else that went along with it; Jim was looking forward to some time spent in the dusty, *quiet* basement of the anthropology building. Especially spending time alone with Blair. He didn't want to put a name to the feelings he'd been having, but he'd stopped fighting them--had actually grown accustomed to having them--and had accepted his attraction to his roommate.

Blair moved into his line of sight then and Jim sighed in relief. It was getting scary to be left alone with his thoughts for too long anymore.

"Ready, Chief?"

"Yeah, let's go."

They walked in silence to the Expedition, and made the short trip to the University in the same manner. Both men--even Blair, who generally could talk to *anyone* about anything--were tired of talking after yesterday. The silence was comfortable, and they left it.

There were armed guards at the entrance to the basement and the exhibit hall; part of the security detail for the artifacts that Jim had arranged over the last few days. He nodded pleasantly to the men, showed his ID badge, and pushed Blair through the doorway with a gentle hand to the small of his back.

Jim was really surprised by the number of minor artifacts that, combined with the mummy and sarcophagus, would make up the Aten portion of the exhibit. He walked around it, eyeing it critically while Blair began sorting through the various papers that accompanied the crates.

"You up to doing some moving for me, big guy?" Blair broke into his thoughts and he looked up, startled by the sound of his partner's voice after so much quiet.

"Yeah--whatcha need?"

"Well, this stuff," Blair began gesturing to some smaller boxes, "all needs to go upstairs to the exhibit hall. I just don't want to carry it all myself." The younger man flashed him a mischievous grin and Jim smiled back.

"Sure, Chief." Jim reached for the first box, then stopped. "It's gonna be okay? What about keeping this stuff guarded?"

"The only thing that needs to remain under guard is the actual mummy and sarcophagus. The rest are just 'setup' pieces-you know, to like set the scene so to speak."

"Ah. Okay." Jim crouched down and lifted one of the crates, grunting slightly as he did so. "Sandburg! What the hell is in this thing?"

Blair choked back a groan of frustrated desire at the sight of corded biceps bulging. "Umm...pottery, carvings. Stuff like that."

"Where's it go?"

"Upstairs, toward the center back of the exhibition hall." Blair grabbed his own box and headed out the door, Jim right behind him.

The elevator took forever, and Jim leaned the box against the wall to take some of the strain from his back and shoulders while he waited. He didn't notice Blair watching the play of muscles under the tight black tee-shirt, eyes heating as they roamed the broad expanse.

Blair sighed in relief when the elevator arrived. Much more time to look at Jim, and he'd have a serious problem on hand. Was getting one anyway, he thought ruefully as he shifted slightly, trying to compensate for the tightening of his jeans.

Jim heard Blair's heart rate increase and turned concerned eyes to his partner. "Okay Chief? The box too heavy?"

"Nah--was just getting tired of waiting for the elevator," Blair remarked casually, hoping that sounded plausible. It must have because Jim didn't question him any further.

Jim didn't question him any further because he was too busy watching Sandburg's ass as he led the way from the now-open elevator to the exhibit hall. 'Life isn't fair,' he thought as his eyes followed the curve of Blair's cheeks through the tight jeans. 'No one should have an ass that sexy. Or eyes that blue...a mouth that kissable...hands that incredibly sensual...' Jim suppressed a shudder as he remembered the barest of touches from those fingers on the back of his neck the other night. Accident or on purpose? He couldn't wait until this damned exhibit was done with, and their investigation wrapped up so he could talk to Blair about this.

Jim stopped in amazement when they walked into the Great Hall. He'd never seen an exhibition hall so large in a university building before. It seemed to spread out before him, easily covering ten thousand square feet, if not more. From where he stood he could see that there were two sets of double doors at the far end of the room, apparently leading in from the street, and also at the back of the hall where he and Blair were standing. There was a single set of double doors opposite of where they were, presumably leading to the stairwell and the basement.

"Cool, huh?" Blair watched his friend's eyes reflect awe at the hundreds of artifacts and miscellaneous items decorating the huge room.

"Man, you weren't kidding." Jim turned to Blair. "Did you know it was going to be this big?"

Blair laughed and led him further into the room. "Not at first--but it became pretty clear, pretty quick. That's why I chose this place--it's got the room to spread out. See that," the student gestured to a large open space in front of them, "that's gonna be where we put the sarcophagus. This stuff," he indicated the boxes they were still holding, "will go in a mini-exhibit around the sarcophagus--showcasing it, if you know what I mean."

Jim nodded, still looking around. Around the room, hung on all the walls were masks and charms; many of them reminded him of his time in Peru, and he shuddered slightly. There was a large concentration of South American art and artifacts at one end, and he moved toward it.

"Hey, Sandburg, what's this stuff?" He pointed to a gallery-style case near the setting labeled "Mayan Death Rituals".

"Um...just a sec...Oh, that. That's our exhibit of Ahz-hnaian Grave Figurines. The Ahz-hnaian are supposed to be an off-shoot of the Mayans, although it's never been proven conclusively."

"Grave figurines?"

"Mmhmm. Supposed to keep evil spirits away, that sort of thing."

"Great." Jim looked around, suddenly realizing how much of the contents of this room dealt with death. "What's that?" He switched gears and headed back in the opposite direction.

"What's what?" Blair hurried after him. The figurines had always given him the creeps, and he was glad to move on.

Jim was circling the mannequins wearing the Scotch and English battle-costumes, looking at them admiringly. He reached for one, noting the claymore, then his attention was snagged by the bayonet, and he pulled his hand back as if he'd been burned.

"It had that effect on me, too," Blair said quietly from behind him.

"What period?" There was an odd quality to his voice.

"Culloden. Charles Stuart's final bid for the throne."

Jim looked at the exhibit. Someone had arranged the mannequins so they stood opposite each other, arms reaching for the weapons at their sides. Two partitions had been set up and painted to give the illusion of countryside--presumably meant to be Scotland--and there was a third figure behind, carrying bagpipes that looked authentic. He noted distractedly that there was a breeze coming from somewhere, and moved behind the partitions.

"There's a door back here!"

"Yeah--we use it if the stairwell door is locked. It's a direct feed to the conference rooms that run next to the hall." Blair shook his head. "Hardly anyone knows it's here, Jim."

"Does Sarina?"

Blair paused. "I don't think so. *I* never told her...and Michael's not aware of it, either. Remember, I've been here a lot longer than either of them."

Jim shook his head, his face stern. "I should post a guard there."

"Look, man, the only way you can get in through that door is to go into the conference rooms--and you've got a guard covering the main entrance for that."

"I don't know, Sandburg."

"C'mon, big guy. Time's a-wasting, and I've got a lot more stuff for us to bring up."

Jim allowed himself to be led away, still uncomfortable with the unguarded door, but distracted by the feel of Blair's hand on his arm.

* * *

They worked steadily for most of the morning and afternoon, pausing briefly to eat some sandwiches Blair had brought for them. By the time five p.m. rolled around, nearly all of the minor artifacts that had accompanied Amen-hetep had been accounted for and shifted upstairs. They called it a day then; Blair effusive in his praise and thanks for Jim's help.

"No problem," Jim remarked as they headed for home. "I needed a good workout--haven't had many chances lately to do any exercising." He shifted in his seat and flexed his shoulders and back as he spoke.

"Your back bothering you?"

"A little," Jim admitted. "I think I pulled my shoulder again, too."

Blair frowned. "The same one?"

"Yeah." Jim was quiet for a minute. "Think you could rub it down again? It really helped that last time."

"Sure." Blair nodded emphatically. "Seems like the least I could do, man, after all the help you gave me today."

"Hey, how about Chinese for dinner? We can get carry-out, go home, watch a movie. You and I haven't had much chance to relax in a while."

Blair smiled. "You sure? I was ready to make dinner when we got home."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Let's go to Lee Wong's, okay? I want Cashew Chicken."

Blair shuddered. "Vegetable Lo-Mein for me, thanks. How can you eat that stuff?"

"What, the chicken or the cashews?"

* * *

Sunday evening, 5/4

"Ready for your rub-down?" Blair stopped in front of the couch where Jim was sitting, looking semi-comatose.

He shifted, rousing slightly. "Oh, yeah. Sure. You still up to it?"

'Boy, am I ever,' came the unbidden thought. Blair cleared his throat, hoping his Sentinel never learned how to read minds. "Yeah, I told you. It's like the least I can do." 'And I'd be happy to do way more than that...' God! Blair mentally threw his hands up in the air. "I'll do you--I'll do the massage on the couch, if you want. We'll just put a blanket under you, so nothing gets on it." Blair paused. "No, that's not gonna work--I'd have to straddle you." He took a deep breath against *that* imagery, and looked at Jim, who was watching him with an odd expression on his face.

"Mmm. Well, you need to be able to get to both sides, don't you?"

Blair nodded. "You want to sit up for it, instead?" Jim didn't seem to be noticing his slip a moment before, so he tried to put it from his mind as well.

"How about I lie on a blanket on the floor?"

"I'd still have to straddle you." 'Not that this would be a problem for *me*...'

"No you don't--you can reach both sides from one." 'God, I wish I had the nerve to just say go ahead, straddle me...I'd even turn over for you...'

"Okay, whatever. Strip off your shirt while I get the blanket and liniment."

"Do you have any oil instead?"

"What, like massage oil?"

Jim nodded.

"No--but I have baby oil. Would you rather have that?"

"Yeah--the liniment gave me a headache last time. Too strong-smelling."

"Okay, whatever works best for you."

Ten minutes later Blair was mentally kicking himself. A backrub with Jim sitting up in a chair would have been the best bet for him. The feel of strong muscles and warm skin slick with oil under his hands had him shifting uncomfortably as his erection grew. It was taking all of his self-control not to strip his own clothing off and rub his body along Jim's. He gasped, trying to stifle a hysterical giggle as he imagined what Jim's response to *that* would be.

Jim lifted his head from his arm and glanced back over his shoulder. "All right back there, Chief?"

Blair drew in a deep breath, trying to regain control. "Fine, man. Just had a weird thought...and a little too much stress lately. Never mind me."

'Right,' Jim thought, turning back to rest his head on his arm again. 'As if I could *not* mind you.' The feel of Blair's hands sliding all over his back and shoulders was about to drive him insane. He groaned silently and pressed his pelvis harder against the floor, trying to relieve some of the pressure from the hard-on he'd developed.

Blair hit a particularly sensitive spot, and Jim groaned out loud. It felt good to make some kind of noise, since he needed to release the tension somehow. God, those hands on his back... He wondered how they'd feel sliding against other parts of his body...and a mental image of Blair rubbing against him as he fucked him silly filled his mind. Oh, man, that was *not* the direction to take. Jim tried to think of sad things, morbid things...*anything*. Nothing helped. All he could see were images of him holding Blair, kissing Blair, stroking Blair...

He realized the hands had stopped, and he frowned against his forearm. Done already? He'd been hoping Blair wouldn't ever stop. He rolled over, intending to ask Blair if he could concentrate on his lower back. Blair had never removed his hands from Jim's slick back, and they followed the movement, coming to rest on Jim's chest, just below the nipples that had hardened already from Jim's thoughts and the touch of Blair's hands.

He glanced at his friend, noting the flushed face and increased breathing and heart rate. He ran his eyes up and down Blair's body quickly, and saw the large bulge covered by too-tight denim. Ass-hugging denim. His own cock throbbed uncomfortably at the sight, and he forced his eyes back up to Blair's face.

Blair had looked down when Jim rolled over, not realizing his hands were going with the motion. When Jim came to a rest he'd glanced down, intending to take a quick peek at the strong abs before moving away. The outline of Jim's hard cock caught his eye, and suddenly the focus of his world shifted. He raised his eyes then to meet Jim's, expecting to see...what? What was he expecting to see? Whatever it was, it wasn't the desire he saw burning there.

Their gazes locked and held for several long moments. Blair allowed his eyes to travel down the length of Jim's body again, lingering on the hard-on that was tenting the sweats his friend wore. His tongue darted out to lick at lips gone suddenly dry, and he watched Jim's eyes dilate further. A rush of heat moved through his system then, and heedless of the potential consequences, Blair gave into his longing and lowered his head to kiss Jim.

Rather than the rejection he expected, Jim's mouth opened willingly under his; a warm tongue slid aside to allow him in, then returned to caress his. Blair shivered at the feelings assailing him, and he shifted his body more onto Jim's to give himself an anchor.

Jim closed his eyes as soon as Blair's lips touched his own, and he gave in to the feelings and desires that had been haunting him for weeks now. His partner's mouth was warm and sweet, and gently demanding on his own, and Jim had never been so thoroughly kissed in his life.

They broke apart panting, bodies desperate for oxygen. No words were exchanged; just hot, charged looks that sent temperatures spiking further. Jim reached for Blair, pulling the soft cotton tee-shirt up over his head. His hands caressed the younger man's chest, combing through the soft curls there. Blair moaned softly at the sensation, and leaned in to kiss Jim once again.

Jim rolled over, pinning Blair beneath him then before holding his head steady for a deep, penetrating kiss. He thrust his tongue into the younger man's mouth hard and fast, at the same time grinding his pelvis against Blair's. Their arms and legs entangled as the kiss deepened further, until they were rubbing against each other frantically, desperate for each other and for release.

Blair twisted his head back, breaking the kiss, his hands scrambling with the waistband of Jim's sweats. The older man growled low in his throat as Blair's hands caressed him while pushing the pants down his hips. He pulled away from those hands and stood to pull the pants off, then knelt beside Blair and reached for his. Blair lifted his hips as Jim slid his jeans off, then pulled him back down, mouth searching for Jim's once again.

The kisses increased in heat and intensity as they began thrusting against each other; hard cocks weeping pre-ejaculate, providing a wet friction. Blair hung on to Jim's shoulders, groaning, when his partner brought one hand up to pinch lightly at nipples already tight and hard from excitement. Jim rolled the tender buds gently between thumb and forefinger, then pulled away from Blair's lips to take a taste. The younger man whimpered as warm lips encircled a sensitive nipple and suckled, sending tendrils of heat shooting through him. A large hand smoothed down his back to cup his ass, drawing him closer to the cock thrusting against his own. A finger probed his cleft, and Blair stiffened, throwing his head back to yell hoarsely as he came in hot spurts on their stomachs.

He pulled frantically at Jim's head, bringing his mouth back up for more kisses. Jim pulled him closer and rubbed hard against his body, the liquid heat from Blair's orgasm providing lubrication for movement. He pushed harder and faster, until his body tensed up and he spent himself with a low groan, body pulsing with the effort.

They lay together in a sweaty tangle on the living room floor, breath coming in harsh pants and heart rates still racing. Jim shifted so he was lying partly on his side, partly on his back. He gathered Blair in close to him, cuddling him into the crook of his arm. The younger man sighed and snuggled in, feeling safe within the circle of Jim's arms. His Sentinel wouldn't allow anything to happen to him, regardless of who wished him harm.

Jim exhaled in a rush as Blair curled into him, hand raising to rest against his chest, just over his heart. He could hear the steady thrum of Blair's heart, and knew his was beating in sync; echoing the rhythm. He began to gently stroke the sweaty curls, enjoying the quiet and the afterglow, content just to lie there with his Guide in his arms.

After a while Blair's breathing slowed and evened out, and Jim knew he was asleep. His own last waking thought was about how good this felt--Blair's arms around him, the warm weight of his Guide's leg pressing against his, the smell of their essences combined. This should ease him into sweet dreams...

* * *

_Smoke surrounded him, and there were loud voices calling--both to him, and just calling out. He couldn't see very well at all, and his Sentinel abilities didn't seem to be working. Where was he? There was blood all around...blood on his hands, and on the large sword that appeared on the ground in front of him. With shock rippling through his brain he stepped back in horror from the sword, his mouth working in a soundless cry. A gasp of pain alerted him to the presence of another person and he whirled about, eyes widening in shock at the sight of Blair. He didn't look like *his* Blair, but he instinctively knew it was, and reacted accordingly. He held his arms out to him. Blair shook his head no, and spread his hands, showing what had been hidden from his sight at first--a large, bloody, gaping hole in his stomach. Jim fell to his knees then, turning his sight heavenward, pleading silently for someone to help him, let him know what he had to do. He turned back to Blair but the image was gone, just a puddle of blood where he'd stood... _

* * *

The phone jarred them awake, and two pairs of startled eyes stared into one another's. Jim shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his brain and process why he was lying on the floor, naked, with his arms around Blair.

Blair closed his eyes, then opened them again, not quite believing that he was seeing what he was seeing. He and Jim were naked, lying in each other's arms.

And the phone kept ringing.

Jim untangled his legs from Blair's and rose to grab the phone. His nostrils flared as he caught the lingering scent of their pleasure, with a strong concentration of Blair on him. He snatched the phone up and growled, "Ellison!"

Blair sat up and put his arms around his knees, watching the other man's face grow stern, then grim. His heart sank as he realized there was no way it could be good news--not from Jim's expression, coming at two in the morning. Jim closed his eyes, then snapped them open, the blue startling in the dim light. "All right, Simon. We'll be there as quick as we can. Yeah, I gotta wake Sandburg up. Yeah. See you in a little bit."

Jim broke the connection and turned to look at Blair, unsure of what to say or do. Nothing had changed between them--except that they'd shared some very hot sex--he still didn't know how his friend felt about a relationship with him. Obviously he didn't have a problem with the sex part; the rest remained to be seen.

Blair climbed slowly to his feet. "I know that wasn't good news."

"No." Jim stood by the stairs, watching his--could he call him lover?--Guide. "The Ambassador and his assistant are both dead, as well as both of the ambassador's bodyguards."

Blair sucked his breath in. "What about the CPD guys?"

"No. They're fine." He moved a little closer to Blair. "We need to get dressed and get down there."

Blair nodded, then tipped his head to look at Jim, smoky-blue eyes serious. "We have to talk about this, man."

"I know. But not right now--we don't have time." Jim raised a hand as if to cup Blair's face, instead ran his thumb across a pouty lower lip that was still enticingly kiss-swollen, beckoning to him. "Definitely later." He turned and headed up the stairs.

Blair stood there for a minute watching him, his whole body tingling from just that tiny touch. He sighed and headed down the hallway to the bathroom.

* * *

"You know, this getting up in the middle of the night is really getting to be a drag," Blair commented as the Expedition sped down the deserted streets of Cascade.

Conversation between the two of them was a little forced, and he was trying to smooth the way, re-fuse the connections. He hadn't imagined it this way; the two of them dancing around each other. In the fantasies in his head, when he'd permitted himself anything more than a quick jerk-off fantasy, Blair had envisioned them waking up in *bed* together; comfortable with each other, happy, declarations of love from both. Not waking up on a blanket on the living room floor because a backrub got out of control, combined with the 'we-need-to-talk-but-can't-do-it-now' that they were having to deal with. He frowned to himself, and Jim interpreted that as disgust over being awakened in the middle of the night--again.

"Coming from the original bat that sounds pretty funny." Jim concentrated on the street in front of him, trying not to focus on the image of Blair writhing beneath him in pleasure.

"I can stay up working 'til all hours, but waking up is different." Blair's voice shifted on the word 'waking', and Jim felt his stomach clench. If only they'd had the chance to wake up--naturally--in the morning; they might be still lying there now, bodies pressed against each other, arms entwined--

"Jim!"

The panic in Blair's voice jarred him, and he shook his head to clear it. This was getting ridiculous--any deeper concentration, and he'd be zoning out. "What?"

"Man, you almost side-swiped that Escort back there! Pay attention, or let me drive." Blair was so shocked at their near miss his heart was pounding. Jim had nearly driven them into another car! What the hell was he thinking about?

* * *

They exited the elevator at penthouse level, and Jim's nose wrinkled in disgust. He'd scented the unique odor of blood the minute he'd walked through the doors of the hotel, and the closer they got to the source the stronger it became. He walked through the open door, swaying as the stench of blood hit him full on.

Blair was at his side in an instant, clutching his arm. "Jim! Are you okay? What's wrong?"

The Sentinel shook his head. "I'm fine. It's the blood..." A flash of his dream came back to him, and he shuddered. Blair tightened his grip for a moment, then let go of Jim's arm.

Jim gently pushed the younger man behind him as they walked further into the room. He knew it was bad; could tell that from the strength of the odor, and wanted to spare his partner as much as possible. "Stay close, Chief. You'll be okay," he whispered.

Simon walked up to them. "Jim. Sandburg. Sorry I had to drag you out of bed." He focused on the detective. "It's not good, Jim. The ME is in there now."

"Show me," Jim's face was set into a determined mask.

The captain glanced at Blair. "Maybe you should stay here, Sandburg. It's pretty messy."

Blair shook his head. "No, Simon. Jim needs me. He's already on edge from the smell--I don't want him zoning."

Jim gave him a look that was at once both amused and grateful, as Simon grunted and led the way.

The crime scene resembled a slaughterhouse. Jim shook his head, knowing yet finding it hard to believe that two bodies could hold so much blood. What the hell had happened here? He moved further into the room and spotted the medical examiner. Behind him he felt Blair clutch at his arm as the younger man got his first good look--and probably smell now, too--at the carnage.

"Oh, *man*," Blair gasped. He clutched at Jim briefly, then turned away, but not before he saw the crude drawing on the wall, done in blood.

Jim touched his arm gently in a sympathetic gesture; then knelt down between the two bodies to speak to the medical examiner who hovered next to them.

"Whatcha got, Cicely?"

The examiner spared him a brief glance before returning to her examination. "Murder weapon was that ceremonial dagger." She pointed to the knife which had already been bagged and labeled. "It was used to slice the ambassador's throat and stab his companion in the stomach. Boussard," she indicated the body with the stomach wound, "was clutching the dagger. Due to the angle of the entry wound, it's safe to say he killed himself."

Jim frowned. "So you're saying that Boussard probably killed El Ka'ab, then killed himself."

"It's a good bet, detective." Cicely picked up Boussard's left hand. "The index finger is bloodied. We think he used it to draw the symbol on the wall with the ambassador's blood. We won't know for sure until we type the blood and match the prints, but it's my opinion."

"Who discovered the bodies?"

Simon answered from his position behind the detective. "DeAngelo and Frasier, when they did their mid-watch tour of the area."

"Did the other team check with the ambassador before leaving?" Jim questioned, trying to pinpoint the time of death.

Simon nodded. "The two men were alone. No one came in or left during those four hours. The bodyguards were on the couch, watching TV, and Boussard and El Ka'ab were both in their rooms. Two hours later we have four DBs."

"It supports the murder/suicide theory," Jim stood up and brushed off his pants. "Damn it! Why do you suppose Boussard did it?"

"Boussard probably didn't feel the same way about Egyptian artifacts as the ambassador did. And you said it yourself before, Jim. Religious fanatics don't need a motive. It looks like he was a member of the cult of Aten, too." Blair's voice shook slightly.

Jim turned to see his Guide leaning against a wall; face pale, eyes closed. "You gonna make it, Chief?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Yeah, man," Blair took a deep breath and opened his eyes. "Just a little hard to take, that's all."

Jim nodded, then looked toward the far wall where the bloody disk-worshipper's symbol had been placed. His eyes narrowed as he considered the connection between this murder and the exhibit, and the danger to his friend. "You're probably right, Chief. Boussard was probably a member. Why else paint the symbol?"

"But why would he kill himself, rather than make a run for it?" Simon had moved from his stoic position by the door to look at the bloody symbol. "That doesn't make any sense."

Blair shook his head. "Well yeah, it does, kind of."

Jim and Simon both turned to stare at him, Jim's eyebrow cocked in cynical curiosity. "Okay, teach, give us your theory."

The younger man shook his head again. "Not mine, Jim. Just a general opinion based on a lot of study of honor-based societies, like the Japanese for a start. You know, like Kamikaze warriors? Making the ultimate sacrifice for god or king--what's more ultimate than your life? It's like, given the choice between killing for your god and getting caught, or killing for your god then killing yourself, the choice becomes simple--death or dishonor."

Jim nodded. "Sound enough argument. But how could he be that close to the ambassador without someone finding him out?"

Blair rolled his eyes. "What, you think the members of the cult advertise? Get real, man. Think like, covert, okay? I doubt Boussard left notes to El Ka'ab telling him the times he was going to his secret cult meetings."

"Okay, Sandburg, you've made your point," Simon broke in. "But isn't it advertising by leaving the symbol for us?"

"Well, sure. But what's he got to lose now? He's dead, so he can't talk--no dishonor there. Just a little message from him to tell us how stupid we all are to have believed him--" Blair closed his mouth abruptly, and Jim threw him a sharp look. He knew his partner was beginning to question his judgment in people--that was twice in just over a week now.

"Take it easy, Chief--we were all fooled by Boussard. El Ka'ab most of all--and look at the price he paid." Jim sighed and looked down at the medical examiner who was busy ignoring them in favor of finishing up her preliminary exam. "Let's see what the forensics reports tell us before we make any definite conclusions. I want to make sure everything is covered."

Simon nodded, gesturing Jim and Blair toward the door to the living area of the penthouse. "There's not much more to do here, Jim. We've got to give our people time to work on this, and it's not like we have a suspect to chase. Why don't you and Sandburg go on home, get some rest, then come in early in the morning. You're gonna need the rest, since this will probably become an international incident. Once the news hits the press, things will become infinitely worse."

Jim gestured around the penthouse, the smell of blood hanging in a heavy cloud around it--around him. "It already has." He sighed heavily, then gestured toward the door with his head. "C'mon, Sandburg. We'll see you in the morning, sir."

Blair exchanged a concerned look with Simon before following his partner out the door.

The truck was parked a short distance away from the hotel entrance, and Blair took the opportunity to inhale deep lungfuls of cool, clean-smelling air in an attempt to wash the smell of blood from his memory. He climbed into the truck and leaned back, eyes closed; waited for Jim to start the engine. When several long minutes passed with nothing happening, Blair opened his eyes to gaze at his friend.

The older man was slumped forward, his head leaning against the steering wheel, arms blocking his face.

Blair reached over and laid a gentle hand on one arm, feeling the tense muscles beneath his fingers. "Jim? What is it? What's wrong?" The Sentinel was silent for so long that Blair thought at first he'd zoned, and hadn't heard him. He opened his mouth to speak again, and Jim's voice cut him off.

"The blood," he whispered, raising his head to look at Blair. "The smell...so much of it...I can't shake it."

Blair's heart flopped over at the anguish he heard in Jim's voice. He snagged Jim's eyes with his own, and held them; tightened his grip reassuringly on the arm he still held. "Take a few deep breaths, man. Open the window if you have to, but *breathe*. Clear your head, and concentrate."

Jim shook his head. "No, you don't understand. I can't shake it. It's too strong. I close my eyes, and all is see is *blood*, staining everything, covering everything. I'm drowning in it, and I can't stop it!" Jim's voice rose on the last note, an edge of hysteria to it.

Blair squeezed Jim's arm again, hoping the contact would help to bring his Sentinel back from the zone-out--since that's what this was rapidly beginning to look like. He took a deep breath to calm himself, then began speaking in a low monotone; words and cadence quiet and soothing. "It's okay, Jim. The blood is gone now. Hear my voice, listen to what it tells you. Take a few deep breaths...that's it, big guy...the blood is gone. There's no more, okay? Breathe again...in, out, that's right..." The young Guide's voice had dropped into a hypnotic rhythm, and he trailed off as Jim began the deep breathing on his own. Blair watched his partner for signs of relaxing, and was happy to feel the muscles under his hand loosen. He breathed out quietly, then began again, "Okay, Jim...a few more breaths, the smell is disappearing now. Notice how everything smells clean again. It's okay to smell again...that's it..."

When he sensed that Jim had recovered from the zone-out, and was now relaxed and more at ease Blair began a shift from hypnotic to cadenced again, drawing Jim back into the sphere of reality. He gave the now-relaxed arm a final squeeze, then sat back in his own space, watching. "You okay, big guy?"

Jim gave him a smile that Blair could only interpret as tender--and relieved. "Yeah...whew," he sighed again as he put the truck into drive. "God... I wouldn't have made it through that without you, Chief. I'm okay now, I think..."

"I'm glad. But I'm curious, too." Blair frowned, the scientist in him taking over, thinking back to the penthouse. "There wasn't any more blood there than some crime scenes we've worked--less than at some, in fact--so why did it bother you so bad? The enclosed area? The fact that this case is like the biggest pain in the ass we've had in a while, and you're totally focused? Outside distractions? Any ideas?"

Jim shook his head, a sense of uneasiness settling over him. Vague snatches of a blood-soaked dream flashed across his vision, and he shook his head to clear it. "I don't know. I can't explain it, but it was like there was this...*cloud* hanging around the scene--I could smell it so clearly I could almost see it. I don't know," he finished in a frustrated tone.

"It's okay, Jim. We're just gonna have to take it easy on the olfactory input for a few days. This is your second zone-out over smell in, what, a couple of weeks. Not good, buddy. Not good."

"I know. God, I know." Jim hesitated, then reached a hand over to lay it on Blair's knee for a minute, giving a brief squeeze before pulling away. "Thanks, Blair."

The younger man's smile was like a ray of sunshine shining down on him.

* * *

Tuesday morning, 5/6

Jim growled in disgust as he shifted the piles of paper around on the kitchen table. The lab reports from the ambassador's murder had come in yesterday, and seemed to confirm what they'd all hypothesized at the murder scene.

Fingerprints on the wall were a match to Boussard. Lab analysis of el Ka'ab's body detected minute traces of cyanide poisoning. Careful posthumous examination of the bodies backed up Cicely's initial hypothesis: Boussard had killed the ambassador, then turned the knife on himself. As for why he'd done it, all they had was conjecture; Blair's theory was sound, but without having a live body to back it up, they'd never know for sure.

What was the connection to the strange happenings at the museum and the university, though? Jim had been through the paperwork for both cases so many times now he'd nearly memorized it. He'd tried to concentrate at his desk yesterday, but half-formed images kept coming back to haunt him: he and Blair locked in a passionate embrace, loving each other; then Blair bathed in blood, screaming in agony. Smoke-filled air surrounding him, and the scent of blood hanging over him in a cloud of death. Jim shuddered and shifted the papers again. Even here at home he couldn't completely quell the images--although he was doing a little better than he had yesterday.

The common denominator to all of this was the cult of Aten, but *how* it became the denominator was eluding him. He'd spent most of the morning so far trying to tie Boussard to Sarina and Sethos, but couldn't find the linking piece. They *had* to have been working together toward their common goal--preserving the cult of Aten, and the artifacts connected to it. What Jim wanted--needed--to know was what kind of contact the pair here had had with Boussard, how they connected with each other, and what the next move would be.

Jim pushed the lab reports aside and picked up the file report he'd typed up last night. The search warrant for Sarina's apartment had finally come through, and he'd managed a thorough search yesterday. Blair had had another TA administer his beginning anthro final so he could accompany Jim--fearful enough that the older man would have another zone-out to challenge university policies and skip the last day of classes.

It'd been, in some ways, an enlightening search. They'd turned up a bottle of Tea Rose perfume on her vanity, which, upon examination, had matched the scent he remembered from the museum. They had also found private papers and photographs that indicated that Sarina's father was of Egyptian descent. The man in question had been a history professor at Oxford University for a number of years, before retiring recently.

Jim tapped the report against the table, knowing there was something in it that could connect everything. He read through it again, trying to figure it out. Oxford. What was it...something Blair had said...Keb Boussard had *attended* *Oxford*. He pulled out the dossiers on the now-deceased Egyptian ambassador and advisor, and began scanning Boussard's, eyes lighting up at the confirmation. Boussard had attended the distinguished university at the same time Sarina's father had been a professor there. Both men had been active in Egyptian politics, and very vocal about their feelings on policies and religious matters. Boussard's degree was in political science; Professor Collins was a history teacher. Given the circles they attended, it was likely they knew each other. Jim wasn't sure what the actual connection was between Sarina's father, Boussard and Sethos, and the role Sarina played in the connection, but he figured it would surface soon. Certainly the groundwork had been laid for Sarina to have exposure to the cult of Aten...and the fact that she was still absent was highly damning.

Jim groaned silently when he realized that he was going to have to share this information with Blair. The kid had gone to a lot of trouble to arrange to go with him yesterday, and Jim was going to slap him in the face with the results of it.

As if responding to the unspoken thoughts about him, the door to the small room where Blair slept opened, and his Guide strolled out, backpack slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, man. I gotta run--but I'll be back in time to fix dinner." Blair smiled at Jim; a tentative smile that suddenly turned seductive. "We still need to talk, big guy. Wanna set aside a block of time tonight?"

Jim nodded, the smile doing odd things to his pulse and his breathing. He began to return the smile when Blair's words sank in. "Where're you going?"

"Don't you remember? I told you yesterday--I've got some last minute stuff to do for the exhibit. Mostly PR stuff, but a few things still need to be arranged. And since Sarina hasn't been around..." Blair's voice trailed off, and he shrugged. "Anyway, murders notwithstanding, I've got a shitload of work waiting to be done, and now I have finals to grade as well." There was a pause, then Blair looked at Jim, a frown on his face. "You're not going to give me trouble over this, are you? We *did* discuss it--you said it was okay since there're armed guards there now."

"No... no problem. I remember what I said. And yeah, as far as talking...I agree. We shouldn't put it off any longer." Jim's stomach flipped over thinking about *why* they had to talk, and he rose from the table and headed for Blair, who was standing by the door.

The younger man turned questioningly when Jim laid a hand on his shoulder. The desire--and something else--shining in Jim's eyes took his breath away, and Blair opened his mouth to speak. Jim lowered his head and captured that mouth, like he'd been aching to do for nearly two days now, thrusting his tongue deep inside the moist cavern. He held Blair tightly, and kissed him until both of them needed to breathe or risk passing out. Then Jim pulled away, the whisper of a caress traced along Blair's cheek.

"Be careful," the bigger man said softly, watching his Guide.

Blair nodded mutely and left the loft.

* * *

Oh, my God. Oh. My. God. *Oh* *My* *God*. Blair leaned against the Corvair, his lips still tingling--hell, his whole *body* still tingling--from that kiss. What the hell was up with that? What was up with Jim, come to that. He shivered at the thought of there being any kind of chance that his Sentinel had feelings for him--beyond friendship. 'Gods, please. I don't ask very often...but you know this man and I belong together. Please...'

Impromptu prayer over with, Blair put himself into hustle-mode. He was already running late, and there were too many things he needed to accomplish today to risk running any later. Not if he wanted to get home early so he and Jim could talk. Another shiver tripped up and down his nervous system at that thought, and Blair grinned. It was gonna be a good day.

* * *

Jim sat back down at the table, retrieving the papers he'd pushed out of his way when he'd stood up. He picked up the report he'd been studying, and began reading it for the third or fourth time, looking for that elusive something that could tie all the pieces together.

The phone rang a little while later, startling him out of possible theories. "Ellison," he answered, absently scanning the sheets in front of him.

Simon's voice on the other end pulled him to full alert with his words. "Jim, we just got a report in from campus security over at Rainier. There's a group of protestors--probably triple the number from yesterday--and they're more hostile than the others have been."

Jim felt his heart leap into his throat. "Shit. Sandburg just left for there maybe half an hour ago. Damn it, I *knew* this would happen when they got wind of the ambassador's murder. Damned exhibit..." Jim let his voice trail off.

"Jim?"

"Yeah, sorry. Look, Simon, I gotta warn Blair. Meet you over there in about fifteen?"

"Sounds good."

Jim broke the connection with Simon, then dialed Sandburg's cell phone. The phone rang in Blair's bedroom, where he'd left it when he repacked his backpack that morning.

Smothering a curse, the Sentinel hung up the phone and reached for his holster, hands suddenly shaking at the potential danger facing his Guide.

* * *

"Simon!" Jim spotted his captain as he jogged the short distance from the parking area to where the protestors had been virtually camped out in front of the Anthropology building. He could see roughly twenty protestors milling about, signs bobbing in the air. They looked peaceful enough for the moment, but there was definitely an undercurrent of hostility that hadn't been present before now.

Simon turned away from the man he was speaking with and addressed his detective. "Jim." He nodded to the man, and turned back again. This is Captain Jerome Wylie. He's in charge of campus security. Wylie, Jim Ellison, one of my senior detectives."

"Nice to meet you, Detective," Wylie stuck his hand out and Jim grasped it.

"Likewise. What's the situation here?" Jim indicated the protestors with a nod of his head.

Wylie brushed at his buzz cut and grimaced. "Your captain told me that you're in charge of the security for that thrice-damned exhibit, so I figured you'd want to know that things are on the verge of getting ugly here."

Jim nodded, smiling slightly. 'Thrice-damned? Blair's gonna love to hear *that*.' "They look pretty quiet to me," he said cautiously.

"Yeah, but I got this, this morning, too." Wylie handed Jim a note, and the other man felt his heart sink as he opened it and scanned the words. It warned that 'those who persist in desecration earn eternal wrath and damnation, and to expect more in the way of retribution.'

"Expect more? More of what?" Jim felt a weariness toward the whole thing sweep through him, and he turned toward the building, half expecting to see it blow up in front of him.

The answer to his question came in the form of a shout, then a scream. Jim whirled around in time to see a protestor slam his sign on top of the head of one of the campus policemen. That had been the signal, and pandemonium broke loose as fists began to fly.

Jim stepped forward to try and calm the crowd when a flash of yellow caught his eye. He turned and followed the movement, and saw Sarina Collins enter the anthropology building. His heart stopped for a moment as an icy fist of fear clenched around it. Shit! Blair was in there. "Simon! Sarina Collins just entered the building--I'm going after her. Sandburg's in there," he finished, when it looked like Simon was going to protest.

Without waiting for a reply, Jim began shoving his way through the protestors, running toward the entrance of the building. He hesitated only briefly before *knowing* that Blair would be in the exhibit hall, and headed for the closest access: the outside doors.

He paused in the entryway when his sentinel hearing caught whisper-faint voices.

"So you dare challenge the authority of the Aten? Who do you think you are? You're nobody--a miserable peasant in the eyes of my God. You're not strong enough to challenge *me*, much less the God Amen-hetep."

"Amen-hetep wasn't a god; he was a man just like you and me, Sethos," Blair shot back, and Jim could hear the anger and uncertainty in his voice.

"Ah, so you know who I am," the dangerous voice continued. "That's good. I like for my sacrifices to know who set them free of the physical bonds of life; who committed them to the God with a knife stroke."

The last few words set Jim running to the entry doors in a near-mindless panic, horror sweeping through him. He could still hear the last syllables of Sethos' speech hissing through the quiet when he reached the double doors and pushed through, taking care not to let the door bang shut.

Shock and impotence flash through him as he realized his mistake; in coming through the outer doors, he was at the end of the hall--Blair and Sethos were hundreds of feet in front of him, with cases of artifacts in between, creating a maze--much too far to neutralize the threat to Blair without warning the terrorist in advance. He pulled his gun from its holster, and ducked behind an exhibit case, not wanting Sethos to see him before he could reach the man.

His Guide was facing partially toward him, staring the other man down, defiance written all over his stance. Jim could almost feel the waves of anger coming off Blair, directed toward the former priest-turned-terrorist.

"You'd better leave, Sethos," Blair was saying. "The guards will be here any minute. I don't care if you worship to Amen-hetep, just get the fuck out of my life to do it." The anthropologist hadn't noticed Jim's entrance.

Sethos laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "There won't be any guards or police, pretty boy. They're too busy with the protestors. It's just you and I, and a ritual that needs finishing." The terrorist punctuated his statement with several menacing steps forward, and Blair began moving--further away, Jim noted with rising concern.

"You set the protestors up." Blair suddenly realized what was going on. "You've been behind the protest movement all along."

"Partially. Some of them are here because they really are protesting the exhibit--but most of them I hired, to cause a distraction."

Blair shook his head. "You won't get away with it, man. I have a good friend who's a cop--he'll hunt you to the ends of the earth if anything happens to me."

Another harsh sound, masquerading as a laugh. "You mean Ellison, right? He's not a threat to me." Sethos took a few more steps, and Blair moved backward to keep the distance between them.

Jim could hear Blair's heart thundering in his chest, and began to stealthily pick his was forward, maintaining his cover behind the cases scattered throughout the room.

"He's more of a threat than you're giving him credit for."

"Nothing can--"

Sethos didn't get to finish whatever it was he was going to say, because at that moment the noise of a door banging shut reverberated through the hushed room. Blair caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and twisted slightly to see Sarina coming around the partition that was part of the Culloden tableau.

Sethos took that opportunity to draw his dagger and advance on Blair, whose attention was now divided.

Jim saw Sarina come from behind the partition, and cursed himself for his stupidity. He should have placed a guard on that door the minute he found it Sunday. A flash of light spiraling off the ceiling caught his eye, and he pulled his attention back to Sethos who had drawn a dagger--Christ, it was like the ceremonial dagger Boussard had killed El Ka'ab with--and was now moving toward Blair. Shit! He ducked out from behind the case, gun already cocked and ready.

"Sethos! Freeze!"

Sethos ignored him, and reached for Blair, who darted away from him.

Sarina grabbed the bayonet from the display.

Ellison ran full tilt toward the three figures, watching as if in slow motion. Blair whipped his head between the two armed people, then swung his gaze forward to connect with Jim's.

Jim had a sudden flash from his dream a couple nights before of his Guide standing before him, bleeding from a fatal wound to the stomach.

Sethos lunged for Blair, dagger flashing.

The detective dropped to one knee and aimed, squeezing the trigger a split second after.

Sarina moved toward Blair, the bayonet arcing.

Jim saw the movement and swung the gun around, just as his finger completed the squeezing motion.

She jabbed Blair sharply in the stomach just a few seconds before the bullets impacted, crying out, "You should have loved me...you should have...I could have made you happy..."

Three bullets found their mark, slamming Sarina backward, blood rushing from the wounds in her chest.

"No! BLAIR!" Jim's shout was a roar of fury and fear as he ran the remaining distance to his partner.

Sethos ran past Jim, fleeing through the double doors.

Jim noted his departure in a distant portion of his brain, but his entire focus was on Blair.

The young man looked up at him in confusion, hands clutching at the wound in his mid-section. Dazedly he fell to his knees, a whimper rising from him. He held his hands out, red with blood, and Jim felt the dream he'd had a few days ago crash into him.

"Jim," Blair whispered, the sound harsh in the silence. "The blood...I'm sorry, I tried..." He slumped forward into Jim's waiting arms.

Jim clutched his partner to him, trying to send him his own strength. He looked around wildly when he realized that Sethos had indeed disappeared during the confusion.

"JIM!" Simon's voice carried across the great room. Jim raised his eyes from Blair's face to see his captain and a dozen armed men running toward him.

"Simon--we need an ambulance. Blair's hurt." Jim looked back down at the younger man cradled in his arms; blood turning both their clothing red. "Hang on, buddy. Be strong, you can do it..."

Dimly, as background noise, Jim heard Simon shouting commands to the uniforms, calling for the EMTs. He tuned most of it out, focusing his attention on the man he held against his chest. He placed his own hands over the wound, trying to contain the lifeforce that had become more precious to him than his own existence. He rocked them slowly, trying to calm himself as much as impart strength to Blair. He whispered to Blair, trying to focus so he didn't zone out. "Please, Chief... You can't leave me, Blair--I just found you. Keep breathing, baby, keep working...I know it hurts," Jim paused and flinched when Blair whimpered, a small cry of pain escaping the pale lips. "I know it hurts, but focus on me...listen to my voice, okay? I'm here with you..."

A very brief nod told him Blair was listening, and Jim tightened his arms around him.

The hypnotic quality of his voice calmed both men, and put Jim into a light trance-like state. He heard no one, saw no one, was aware of nothing other than Blair; wasn't aware when the medics arrived. He was shocked back into awareness when one of the medics reached to pull Blair from Jim's arms.

"No!"

"Jim," Blair whispered weakly. His stomach felt like it was on fire, and the heat was rising; racing through his veins, consuming him. It was an effort to speak, to remain conscious, but he was going to do his best for Jim's sake. "Jim, come on... No...Ungh..." he gasped as a another wave of pain washed over him. He tugged at the hands covering his wound with what little strength remained, aware on some level that Simon had knelt next to them, and was trying as well to disengage Jim. "Jim, don't...zone. I'll...be okay. We'll work...through this... Not alone...anymore...Jim, c'mon..."

Blair was gasping with the effort by the time his words sank in and reached the Sentinel.

Jim looked around as he realized where he was and what was happening. He glanced down at the man he held in his embrace. "Blair?" he questioned in a harsh whisper.

The younger man managed a weak smile. "Glad you're back with us, buddy..." he rasped before closing his eyes.

"Jim," Simon placed a hand on the Sentinel's shoulder. "He needs medical attention. The medics need to get him transported. You have to let go, and let them do their job."

'Never,' Jim thought fiercely. 'I'll never let you go, Chief.' He stood up with Blair cradled against him, then laid the man gently onto the stretcher, never letting go of his hand.

'Never,' he thought again as he followed the stretcher and EMTs to the ambulance and climbed in for the ride to hospital.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Tuesday afternoon, 5/6

The ambulance hit a pothole and Blair groaned as he was jostled slightly. Jim tightened his grip on the clammy hand held in his, and whispered, "Hang on, Blair--we're almost there."

The fingers squeezed back, and a pair of startlingly blue eyes opened to stare at him. "Hurts," Blair said quietly, in a plaintive tone.

Jim smoothed sweaty curls back from the pale face. "I know, Chief. We're almost to the hospital...just hold on, okay? I'm here for you. Squeeze as hard as you need to."

Blair nodded and closed his eyes against the next wave of pain. Flashing through his mind were images of past lives: Ky, Bran and Andrew. He *wasn't* going to die this time, dammit! Jim loved him, he could sense it. Had known it for, well, days now. You just didn't end up on the floor kissing and touching someone you didn't care about, and definitely didn't just randomly kiss someone goodbye the way Jim had kissed him this morning. Oh, god...just this morning? So much had happened...so much pain and betrayal; he groaned low in his throat, and Jim leaned over him again.

"Blair?"

He shook his head, not ready to talk. All he could see now was Sarina's shocked face, and the look in her eyes as she stumbled forward, most likely dead before she hit the floor. He felt a tear slide down his face at the thought of the wasted life.

"Blair...what is it? Do you need something?"

"Sarina..." he managed to gasp, his stomach clenching involuntarily and sending tremors of pain shooting through him.

"What about her?" Jim's lips tightened. What a little bitch! It wasn't enough that she had to go and resurrect the hideous cult; she had to try and murder Blair--someone she'd cared about, called friend--on top of it. His free hand shook slightly, and he clenched it.

"Is she...dead?"

Jim took a deep breath. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Chief. It was her, or you...and I couldn't let it be you."

"Don't be sorry, Jim," was the raspy whisper. "Don't be sorry."

Blair closed his eyes and lay back again on the stretcher. Jim watched him, an incredible feeling of tenderness flowing through him; tempered by a fierceness that took him by surprise. All he could remember now of the whole incident was the fury that overtook him when he watched the bayonet raise to pierce Blair. No! He'd lost him enough...

Huh? Where'd *that* thought come from?

"Heads up, Detective. We're here," one of the EMTs called from the front of the ambulance.

Jim left that thought alone and focused on the flurry of activity that was taking place now to transport his partner from the ambulance to the emergency room. He followed alongside the gurney, still hanging on to Blair's hand.

They stopped outside a treatment room, and tall young man dressed in green surgical scrubs placed a hand against Jim's chest, stopping him. "I'm sorry, but you're not allowed in with him."

"That's my partner, doc--"

"I'm sorry, sir. Hospital policy."

Jim looked down when he felt a squeeze on his hand. He leaned in close to Blair and heard him whisper, "Give it up, big guy, and let 'em fix me up, okay? I'm not going anywhere--we still have to have that talk."

Jim closed his eyes briefly before returning the squeeze and nodding.

Blair squeezed one more time, then whispered very low so only sentinel ears could hear, "I love you, Jim." Then his hand slipped from Jim's, and he was gone, moved into the triage room.

Jim stood outside the room, listening to the doctors and nurses moving around Blair, issuing orders and giving information. His mind whirled with the last words Blair had said to him; 'I love you', rang over and over, echoed by his own heart. "I love you too, Blair."

He stumbled to a chair in the waiting area just beyond the treatment rooms and buried his head in his hands, shaking with the effort to control himself.

A seemingly endless time later, although he learned afterward it hadn't been more than half an hour, a doctor--the same one who'd refused him entry--came to talk to him, shaking his shoulder gently to get his attention when it couldn't be gained in the conventional manner.

Ellison focused on the doctor, positive that they'd come to tell him Blair was dead. "Yeah?"

"I'm Doctor McCann. You Detective Ellison?" At Jim's nod the man continued, "Mr. Sandburg's injury is serious, but not potentially life-threatening. He needs surgery to repair the damage--there is some internal bleeding--but the entry point of the wound is well away from internal organs. Well, we believe his large intestine has been nicked, but nothing was perforated."

"Can I see him now?" Jim's heart was beating triple-time at the thought of Blair having surgery.

"Not now, I'm sorry. He's already being prepped for surgery; in fact, they should be starting shortly. He signed the permission forms for us, although he did say you're his emergency contact?"

"Yeah." Jim sighed loudly. "How long for the surgery?"

"Let me introduce you to the surgeon, and you can talk to him about it."

"That'd be good. And can you have one of the nurses keep an eye out for my captain? Simon Banks--big, tall, African-American guy, wears glasses. He should be here shortly."

"Yeah, I'll have the admissions desk keep a watch for him. Come on, and I'll introduce you to the surgeon."

* * *

"Jim?"

Ellison started from his light doze, and looked around in a panic. He settled down when he saw Simon standing in the doorway to the tiny waiting room.

"How's the kid?" his captain continued, sitting down across from him.

"In surgery," Jim said shortly. "Jesus, Simon--she *stabbed* him. I can't believe she stabbed him." He looked down at his hands, then back up at his friend. "Did you get Sethos?"

Simon shook his head. "We've got the airport covered, and the ports, and all major routes in and out of the city, but, Jim...the man's an international terrorist. Interpol's been trying for years to get him. We may never catch him."

Jim growled, "He's scum, and he'll get caught one of these days. Maybe just not by us."

"You're probably right. Now tell me what's going on with Sandburg. You said he's in surgery?"

Jim nodded and rubbed a hand absently over his face. He needed to shave--hadn't done it that morning, hadn't figured on going out. Dammit! He should be at home right now, getting ready to have that talk with Blair. 'I love you,' he heard again, and turned to look behind him. It sounded so *close*.

"Jim?"

He focused back on his captain. "Sorry, Simon. Just gathering my thoughts. Yeah, Blair's in surgery--he has a nicked large intestine, and a lot of what they call 'bleeders', little blood vessels and whatnot, to tie off. The surgeon said four to six hours; it's been a little over one. Prognosis is good--it's not a life-threatening wound."

"Why don't you go home and get cleaned up, then? If it's going to be a while...Christ Almighty, man, you look like hell," Simon asserted when Jim continued to shake his head.

"I can't leave yet, Simon. I need to be here, in case--" he broke off, unable to make himself form the words. 'If thought be deed,' he remembered his mother saying when he was small. 'No, I'm not going to think it, because if I don't think it, it can't happen.'

"Jim," his captain began in a gentle voice, "what's going on here? I know you like the kid and all, but..."

Jim jerked his head up and stared at the other man. "Nothing's going on, sir. I just need to be here. When he's out of surgery, I'll go home. Not before then." He gestured to himself--dirty, unshaven, with blood-stained clothing--and smiled ruefully. "I realize I'd scare the hell out of anyone I met right now. But I'm not looking to win any beauty contests at the moment, either."

Simon nodded and stood up. "I'm gonna get some coffee. Want some?"

Jim shook his head. "I'm too wired already. Thanks, though."

Banks smiled at Jim and left the room, leaving the detective alone again with his thoughts. Jim sighed and leaned his head back against the wall, deciding that some sleep might not be a bad thing right now.

* * *

_Ian woke in the pale, thin light of early morning, with a deep sense of foreboding in his heart. Something was wrong here--something was going to happen. _

_He rolled over and propped himself onto his elbow to gaze down at the face of the person he loved more than life itself-his lover, Ky. _

_Oh, he knew it was wrong to love another man--in fact, many said that those who did were bound to go straight to hell, but he and Ky laughed and said that at least they'd be there together. Still, he couldn't suppress a private shudder at the thought of being damned to an eternity of hell just because the person he loved--who loved him back in return--was a man, same as he. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right...and therefore they didn't tell a soul. _

_Ky had begged him once or twice to go away; maybe they could find somewhere where they could be together, openly, freely, without prejudice marring the beauty of what they had between them. He'd said no, it was wrong to skulk off like that. _

_He ran a hand down the smooth, muscled chest before him, and Ky twitched in his sleep. It would be full dawn soon, and they'd have to rise and part. He wanted to love Ky one last time before then, to have something sweet to take into battle. He moved closer to the sleeping man and began gently kissing him, lips moving in slow, seductive circles around Ky's face, tongue tracing the outline of Ky's mouth, until it opened beneath his with a sleepy groan from its owner. _

_"Ian..." _

_"Mo cridh," Ian muttered as he placed tiny kisses across Ky's brow, moving downward, kissing every inch of skin. He ran a hand down Ky's body, and felt the other man arch into his touch. "I love ye, Ky MacKenzie. Ne'er forget, d'ye hear? I love ye." _

_"Aye, I...l-love ye too, Ian. Oh-h-h!" _

_Ian smiled against Ky's chest as he took first the right, then left nipple into his mouth, sucking until the flat nubs were standing up stiff, begging for further attention. Ky's hands threaded their way into his long hair, and held Ian prisoner against the broad chest. Ky's moans were continuous now, and his body was undulating against Ian's. _

_"That's it, love...aye, I make ye feel good, don't I?" Ian moved further down Ky's body, loving every inch of it with lips, tongue, teeth and fingers. The bigger man shook beneath him with want and need, begging softly for the release that Ian could give him. _

_"Ian, please...I need ye, mi dhu. Come in to me...take me..." _

_His lover was gasping and trembling beneath him, and Ian didn't want to wait any longer, didn't want to tease. He spat into his hand several times and coated his cock, then spooned up behind Ky, entering him slowly. _

_Ian gasped as Ky's body stretched around him to accommodate, then slowly tightened again. He was engulfed in the hot channel, deep inside his lover. They were joined physically now as they were joined spiritually always. He grasped Ky's hand, twining their fingers together, and began to gently move within him, loving him. _

_They shuddered through their release together, then lay there, panting and shaking. Ian raised a hand and smoothed Ky's golden curls from his forehead. "I love ye, mo cridh. Ye're everything to me, ye know." _

_"Aye, Ian. Ye're my life, mi dhu. Mine forever, through eternity." _

_Ian smiled at the thought, then moved away from Ky. "We've got to hurry, love. Himself will be doing roll call soon. We canna be late." He stood and headed for the tree not far from the little hole they'd slept and loved in, feeling Ky's eyes on him the whole way. _

* * *

Jim opened his eyes, startled, looking around. What the hell was that? Had he been dreaming, or imagining it? His body had certainly thought it was real, and reacted accordingly; he was hard and aching, with an ache in his heart as well at the tenderness he'd seen between the two men. He glanced across the tiny room and was startled to note that it had been only an hour or so since he'd closed his eyes--it seemed as though much more time had passed. Simon was sitting across from him, an open magazine on his lap, eyes closed tightly. Jim sighed. It had been a long couple of months for both of them. For all of them. He opened up his hearing and concentrated, listening for Blair's heartbeat. He thought he heard it, swooshing reassuringly, if oddly--probably the anesthesia.

Suddenly filled with nervous energy, Jim bounded from the chair and began pacing. Five steps to the right, turn; five steps back, turn again. He moved back and forth, listening as best he could for the reassuring sound of his Guide's heart, and puzzling over the dream--or whatever--he'd had. Those men were hauntingly familiar--especially the one called Ky. For some reason, Ky reminded him a lot of Blair. Not physically--Ky was even bigger than he was. No, it was the inner-self...the same calm, quiet...*ancient*...spirit that he knew today. Today? Didn't he mean now? Or just at all? Jim shook his head and sat back down. He'd try napping again. They still had about three hours to go.

* * *

_"Ky! No!" He charged the soldier, now standing over his friend, who was kneeling and clutching his stomach. "Ye murderin' bastard--" He knocked the soldier to the ground, pulled his head back by his hair and drew his dirk across the soldier's throat. The soldier was dead before his head hit the ground. Ian turned around and knelt beside the wounded man. "Oh, god, Ky..." He clutched his friend around the shoulders. "How bad is it, mo cridh?" _

_"Bad," Ky gasped out. "I dinna think I can walk, Ian." He brought his hands away from his stomach, and Ian's mouth gaped in disbelief at the blood he saw there. So much of it. Ian could feel Ky's trembling in his protective embrace. _

_"We need to get awa' from here. I hae to lay ye down to look at ye." He stood up and looked around. "There's a small hollow just a bit away, but I'm goin' to need yer help, Ky--I canna carry ye alone, ye're too big. Can ye help me?" _

_Ky groaned as Ian helped him shift into a standing position. "I'll...try...ahhhhhh." He ended the short reply with a hiss when Ian brushed his hand against the wound. "Christ, man! Dinna touch it!" _

_"Och, sorry--I need to bind ye up, though, Ky. Ye're bleedin' something fierce." _

_"Aye--but we havena got time. Let's get goin'. I'll do for now." Ky wobbled, and Ian put the larger man's arm over his shoulders, supporting his weight, holding him up with an arm around his waist. They managed maybe a dozen steps or so before Ky's legs gave out, and they both tumbled to the ground. Ian watched Ky curl into a fetal position, as if trying to block out the pain. _

_"Ky? Hold on, mo cridh. I just have to think..." Ian broke off, looking around at the battle and carnage surrounding them. _

_"Ian." Ky's voice, tense with pain, broke into his thoughts. "It's no use, mi dhu, I'm dyin'. Gie up, man, and get yerself gone from here." _

_"No! I'm no goin' to leave ye alone, Ky." He grabbed Ky under the arms and began dragging him. How could Ky think he'd just go and leave him? Ky hissed with the pain but made no other sounds. He dragged him over to the tree he'd seen and into the hollow where they were slightly sheltered. Ian looked down when Ky touched his arm and saw the pain reflected in the brilliant green eyes. He gazed into those eyes, seeing the silent entreaty there. _

_"Ian. Listen to me, mi dhu. I'm dyin'--there's nothing goin' to save me now. Ye need to leave. Don't let them catch ye." Ky stumbled over the words, his breath coming in little gasps now. _

_Ian swallowed, trying to hold back a sob. He'd be brave for his lover, or die himself for trying. "Ye're no dyin', mo cridh. Ye can't die. What in hell will I do wi'out ye? I love ye, Ky...dinna leave me, please!" Ian couldn't hold the sobs in any longer, and bent his head to the wounded man's chest, crying against him. _

_Ky brought his arms up around the slighter man and held him lightly. Ian could feel the gentle fingertips stroking his hair, and heard the softly murmured words, "Shhh...dinna fash, love. Ye'll manage without me. It wasna meant for us to be together in this life. We hae to accept that." _

_He brought his head up to look at Ky, grey eyes cloudy with tears. "What d'ye mean, 'no meant for us to be together in this life'? What other is there?" _

_Ky shook his head. "I love ye, mi dhu. I'll love ye forever--ye're my heart, soul, breath and life." _

_Tears flooded his eyes again and he snuffled, trying to bring it under control. Ky's voice sounded noticeably weaker now, and his skin under Ian's hands felt cold and clammy. Ky was dying...it was just a matter of minutes now. Ian bent his head to Ky's and gently kissed him. "An' I love ye, Kythe Cameron MacKenzie. Ye've only been my lover for a few months, but they were the best months of my life. And the years ye've been my friend..." he broke off, determined not to cry again. _

_Ian shifted them around, so that Ky's head and shoulders lay in his lap, and he could hold him a little easier. Ky's breathing was becoming more labored and irregular, and there were pauses now and again between breaths where there'd not been before. His lips were beginning to take on a bluish tinge, and under his hand the beating heart that was so dear to him began to falter. _

_Ian held him for what seemed like hours, although he knew realistically it wasn't that long. When he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could almost imagine that they'd just made love and he was simply holding Ky, waiting for sleep to claim them like so many times before. Ian choked back a quiet sob, not wanting to disturb his lover. There would be plenty of time to cry later; this would be his last chance to hold Ky, quietly loving him. _

_Ky shifted minutely, and a faint groan fell from his lips. Ian watched his mouth open, and leaned in closer to hear the weak voice. _

_"I love ye, Ian Patrick MacKenzie. Now, forever, for always. We'll be together again...We're meant to be. I promise ye, mi dhu--I'll forever watch for ye, and I will find ye again, no matter how many years or lifetimes it takes." _

_"Oh, god, Ky...please...I canna bear it...dinna leave me...take me wi' ye..." Ian could feel the wave of pain building in his chest; it was as if someone was cutting his heart out. _

_"Ye're no meant to go yet, Ian. I hae to do this alone--as ye're meant to go on your journey alone. Now kiss me again, mi dhu...send me on my way wi' the taste of ye on my lips." _

_Ian complied, bending to kiss Ky, his tears mingling with the kiss, wetting their lips. He pulled away from Ky to find the other man staring sightlessly up at the sky, the life gone from his body. _

_He stared for a long moment, just looking at Ky's lifeless body. Sobs racked him then, great heart-wrenching sobs that spoke of deep grief. He gathered Ky to his chest and sat there, rocking back and forth, mindless of the carnage around him... _

* * *

Jim's eyes flew open with a gasp and a half-stifled cry, startling Simon who'd been dozing.

"Jim? You okay, man?"

Jim shook his head, then answered, "Yeah, I guess so. Weird dream though..." *Weird* didn't even *begin* to describe it! "Guess I'm just too wired to sleep well. I'm gonna go walk around for a few minutes."

Simon nodded, and the detective left the room, hearing behind him the sounds of his captain settling back into his nap.

'What the *hell* was that? Has Blair's past lives shit been fermenting in my brain, or what? It felt so *real* though...I was there. That was me holding Ky, watching him die, feeling the pain. Oh, god, that was me holding *Blair*, watching him die.' Jim jerked to a stop, and raised his hands in front of his face. He'd washed them--several times--since arriving at the hospital, but in his mind's eye he could see another man, smaller than he, hands covered in blood from a lover's stomach wound--*just like the one Blair had now*. Made by the same weapon.

Ellison shuddered and leaned against the wall for support as his knees weakened, threatening to spill him to the floor.

As he stood there shaking, scared to death of the implications of that dream and those thoughts, more images flashed in front of his eyes. They moved at rapid-fire speed--too fast to really comprehend as more than pictures--but enough to glean an understanding of sorts. He saw a tall, golden man struggling in the grasp of soldiers, watching another man--this one younger--gasp in pain as a sword was driven into his belly. Another image of rolling around in the wet grass of a long-since gone glade, trees blowing gently in the spring breeze; that same young man straddling him--him?--and bending to kiss him. More images of Civil War uniforms and a young man falling in front of him as he stabbed the bayonet into him from behind. The fallen man bore the face of the one he loved, and he sank to his knees crying because he'd never said it, and now his friend was dying...

And Jim Ellison sank to his knees, there in the Cascade Mercy Hospital, crying for the men that he, as other men in other lives, had loved and lost.

* * *

Simon found him sitting on a bench in the hallway, thirty feet from the waiting room, dried tear tracks evident on his face.

He allowed himself to be tugged to his feet and escorted back to the waiting room where Simon sat him down.

"Want to tell me what's going on?"

Jim shook his head. He didn't even truly understand it himself. How would he explain it to anyone else? There did seem to be one important thing though, he knew it in the depths of his soul and it was necessary that he say it. "I love him, Simon."

"Who? Sandburg?" Bank's face was blank with shock, his voice carefully controlled.

"Yes."

"Are you sure of what you're saying, Jim? Do you *know* what you're saying?"

The detective raised a hand to wipe at his eyes. They hurt now from crying. "Yes, I know what I'm saying. Believe me, it's not easy." He paused, then added softly, too low for Simon to hear, "I should know."

Simon sat stiffly next to him and Jim shook his head inwardly. This would likely get harder before it got easier, but he had to do it. That was why they'd been parted so many times before; he'd been unable to admit--to anyone other than his lover-that he loved him.

Too much had passed between Jim Ellison and Simon Banks for the older man to pass judgment on his friend, and Jim sagged with relief when he felt Simon's hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture.

"Thank you," Jim said softly.

"Want to talk about it?"

"I don't think I can, coherently, Simon. There's so much jumbled in my mind right now, and over everything is a fear for...Blair. Can I have a raincheck?"

"Anytime, Jim." The bigger man stood and stretched before continuing, "I need to eat something. Want to come with me to the cafeteria?"

Jim shook his head. "I need to stay here."

"Want me to bring you back something?"

"No, thanks."

"Jim--you can't shut down."

"I'm not shutting down; merely waiting. When Blair's out of surgery and safe, then I'll go home and clean up, eat, and probably pass out from exhaustion. Not until then."

Simon sighed. "No arguing with you when you're in this frame of mind, is there?"

"No, sir."

"Fine. I'll be back in a little while."

Jim nodded and shifted, trying to get comfortable in the hard chairs. Whoever had planned these did their job well. Now, instead of just being scared, nervous, upset, whatever, you could do it *and* be uncomfortable at the same time. What a genius.

He leaned back in his chair and began counting the dots on the ceiling. There was no way his brain was going to let him rest now; he was definitely on adrenaline overdrive.

"Detective?"

Jim jumped at the sound of the voice. "Yes?"

"My name is Paulette Sommers. Dr. Chou asked me to let you know that Mr. Sandburg is in recovery now, and he'd like a word with you."

"Where?"

"He'll be along in a moment--he needed to clean up first."

"How's Blair?"

The nurse smiled gently at him. "Dr. Chou will give you a better idea, but he came through surgery just fine. You'll probably be able to see him in an hour or so."

"Thank you, Ms. Sommers."

She smiled again. "The doctor will be here shortly, Detective."

* * *

The doctor had told him Blair came through the surgery with no complications. The only reason it had taken so long was all the tiny bleeders they had to seal off. Jim had nodded, listening to the doctor with one half of his brain and tracking Blair's heartbeat with the other.

They allowed him into the private room immediately after Blair left Recovery. Jim shook his head, heart beating double-time, to see his friend...his love...lying there so pale and still. Regardless of what the doctor told him Blair did *not* look like he was doing well. Only the reassuring beat of his heart and the regular sounds of respiration kept him anchored.

"I understand now," he began in a quiet voice, loathe to disturb his friend. "I know what you were trying to tell me that night...and I'm sorry I wasn't more open to it, then." Jim looked at Blair, eyes still closed, only the gentle rise and fall of his chest to give any outward signs he was still alive.

"Get well, Chief. You and I are meant to be together--I can see that now. *Please*, baby, get well..."

Jim rested his elbows on his knees and placed his head in his hands. His mind was numb now from the influx of information and emotion, not the mention all the happenings earlier in the day. He felt like he was seeing himself from outward in and seemed changed, somehow.

Shifting slightly in the chair he rested his head more solidly in his hands and offered up a silent prayer to whomever may be listening, thanking them for giving them--him--another chance.

* * *

He hurt. His body felt like giant fire-ants had crawled inside and were consuming him piece by piece. Maybe if he turned onto his side they would leave, and leave him alone. Slowly, painfully, he began to force muscles to flex...

"Uhhhhh!" The groan was wrenched out of him, and he hadn't even moved, hardly.

"Blair?"

"J-" Blair stopped, and tried to wet his dry lips with an equally dry tongue. Jim saw the problem right away and brought a cup of water--with a straw--up to his mouth. He sipped, then tried again. "J...Jim."

"Hey, partner." The big man reached for Blair's hand and squeezed gently, taking care to avoid the IV that was taped to Blair's hand. "How you feelin', Chief?"

"Like hell," came the raspy whisper. "Nastiest taste in my mouth..."

"Here, have some more water. That's the residual from the anesthesia. Dr. Chou told me you might have that."

"Who?"

"Your surgeon, remember?"

Blair shook his head. "S'all kinda blurry."

"That's okay. You need to sleep, Blair." Jim smoothed the curls back from Blair's face, stroking his fingers gently through them.

"Need to talk." The smoky-blues were drooping, and Jim smiled.

"Later, when you're more awake. You've only been out of recovery for an hour or so--give yourself some time, okay?"

"You'll be here?"

"Just try and get rid of me," the detective promised. He leaned over and whispered in Blair's ear, "I love you, too, Blair Sandburg."

Blair's eyes widened briefly, and he smiled. Squeezing the hand that still held his, he fell back asleep pain temporarily forgotten.

* * *

Wednesday afternoon, 5/7

The pain was better today. 'Of course,' Blair reflected, '*better* was relative. Better than yesterday, but a long way from tolerable.' He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, wondering how long he could stand to stay here.

His doctor had been in this morning, and after getting a good look at the guy, he vaguely remembered him from yesterday. He'd been lucky, the doctor said, that the knife hadn't pierced any organs--or worse, caught a major artery. As it was they'd had to transfuse almost three pints of blood--almost a third of what a body holds--before all the bleeding had been stopped.

Five to seven days, Dr. Chou had promised. Then he'd be well enough to go home where he could finish his recovery without being woken up in the middle of the night for any number of stupid reasons. No more IVs, no more catheters, hopefully no more pain, although he wasn't that unrealistic. He'd settle for less pain. Blair shifted slightly, groaning as quietly as he could manage when the pain knifed through him, so as not to wake the man sleeping in the chair next to him.

"Blair? What's wrong, Chief?" a sleepy voice near his elbow queried.

Damn! He thought he'd been quiet.

"Nothing, Jim. Just trying to get comfortable."

"Do you need a nurse? Pain meds?" his Sentinel got out of the chair, looked to be heading toward the door.

"No, and no. Some water, maybe?" Blair smiled hopefully, and Jim returned the smile.

"Sure thing. Hang on a second." Jim disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a cup of water.

Blair accepted it gratefully, and leaned back onto the pillows after drinking, drained just by that small act. He rolled his head to look at Jim, who sat back down in the chair next to him.

"You don't have to stay, you know," he offered, giving Jim the option to go home if he wanted.

"I don't want to leave. You've been left too many times."

Blair arched an eyebrow at that, then tensed as a wave of pain rolled over him. He relaxed slowly as it diminished then subsided, aware that at some point he'd grabbed for Jim's hand and held on. After a brief moment of consideration, Sandburg adjusted his self-medicating device and gave himself more of the pain-killer. Then he turned back to face Jim.

"Do you remember what you told me yesterday," he asked in a pain-laden voice that was only a notch above a whisper.

Jim nodded. "Do you want me to say it again?"

"As many times as you can..."

"I love you."

Blair rolled his head again, this time to stare at the ceiling. Jim could see tears glinting in his eyes, but from the pain of the wound, or emotions, he wasn't sure.

A raspy voice began, "Do you know...I've been in love with you for so long I don't even remember a time anymore when I didn't love you? I wanted to reach out and touch you...hold you...waking up the other morning in your arms was like a dream come true for me."

The tears were sliding down Blair's face now, and Jim reached with a finger to gently wipe them away. He brought one up to his lips and tasted the bittersweet-salt flavor of pain, sadness and love. Something grabbed at him inside, and he leaned over to gently kiss Blair, to taste him and take some of the pain away.

"I love you, Blair. I always have, and I always will. You're a part of me...I need you to make me whole." He whispered the words to his Guide; the man who'd brought him back from the brink of insanity more than once, who'd taught him how to control that which caused the insanity, who'd given of himself so completely.

"You're mine," Blair whispered, his lips brushing against Jim's head, which was now resting lightly on his chest.

"Yes," Jim whispered back, before pulling away. He gazed fondly at Blair for a moment, saying, "You need to rest, Chief. The doctor said you get food for dinner, well, broth anyway...you need to be rested for it. Get some sleep, okay? We've got plenty of time...we'll talk more when you're up to it."

Blair nodded sleepily; his medication was kicking in again. The edges around his vision were getting wavy and shimmery, and Blair smiled at this. Morphine. He'd have to be careful not to get too used to it.

* * *

Friday, 5/9

Blair channel-surfed through the TV stations, impatiently watching the clock. It was 4:35 p.m. now, and Jim would be here shortly--assuming he got to leave the station right at 4:30. He was hoping they'd be able to talk today--they certainly hadn't had much of a chance so far. 'Not that I was really up to it,' he conceded to himself. The doctor had only just this morning let him out of bed--and that hurt like a sonofabitch when the staff made him get up and walk around.

Of course, that was *after* the pain inflicted when the catheter was removed.

Sandburg sighed and looked at the clock again. 4:38 p.m. "Damn."

"Damn what?" came a very familiar and much loved voice.

"Jarvis! Michael!" Blair waved them into the room. "God, it's great to see you guys." He shifted himself gingerly, moving upward in the bed, grimacing as the staples across his stomach pulled and the newly healing tissues stretched.

"God, Blair...don't hurt yourself on our account. Stay put," Jarvis moved to help his friend.

"Nah...OW!...Ahh..." Blair relaxed and exhaled as the pain moved through him. His fingers were white where they clenched the rails of the bed, and Jarvis looked at him in concern. Blair shook his head. "Gimme a...minute...whew..." He smiled shakily at his friends. "I'm still a little sore," he admitted sheepishly.

"No, really?" Jarvis shook his head. "Bear--you had major surgery three days ago. Cool it, okay?"

Blair smiled. "Sit down, guys. Michael, you can bring me up to date on the exhibit; Jarvis, I've got some really cool stuff to tell you."

Michael shook his head somberly. "The exhibit's been pushed back until you're on your feet, Blair. Didn't Dr. Hathaway tell you?"

The anthropologist frowned. He'd thought that was a drug-and-pain induced dream. "I guess he was in Wednesday morning--I sort of remember, like in a fog. Actually I *was* in a fog, but it was morphine-induced." Blair grinned, "this place would be cool if I was a junkie." He sobered then. "I don't remember anything he said, Michael. Fill me in?"

The younger man nodded and began to give Blair the details. That kept him sufficiently occupied so Blair forgot to watch the clock, wondering where Jim was.

* * *

Ellison cursed as he wove through traffic, going as quickly as rush-hour would allow. Damn Simon anyway, keeping him late like that. The only time he and Blair had right now was evening visiting hours, although he had to admit that the hospital staff had been pretty cool about letting him stay there, just sitting, watching while Blair slept.

He'd been really looking forward to today, getting there in time to do some serious talking. Blair'd been pretty out of it all day Wednesday and most of yesterday. When he'd peeked in early this morning on the way to work the nurse told him that the doctor planned to get him out of bed this morning. Jim smiled, wondering how that had gone.

'Shit, it's only a fifteen minute drive. I've been here for over twenty now.' And he'd left the station thirty minutes late on top of that. Dammit! Fuck it, he was gonna do things the old- fashioned way. That thought in mind, Ellison turned on his emergency siren and light.

* * *

"...and we were *married*, if you can believe it," Blair finished, smiling at the dark-haired man whose back was to the door. "Jim!"

Jim smiled at Blair, and strode into the room. "Hey, Chief. How'd today go?" He nodded a greeting to the two men sitting next to Blair's bed, recognizing Michael Patterson.

"They made me walk." Blair's face reflected the pain of *that* excursion, then he smiled again. "I missed you," he said, very softly, as Jim approached the bed.

"I missed you, too," Jim said, not so softly. He leaned down and gave Blair a quick kiss. "You look better today."

"I feel better. I think." He watched Jim hook the other chair with his ankle, and sit next to him. A large hand was offered, and Blair took it, wondering, 'What's up with this? I never expected a declaration, much less a public one.' He turned back to Jim and said, "You remember Michael, right? This is his partner--and a good friend of mine--Jarvis Deacon."

"Jim Ellison," the detective said, leaning over Blair slightly to offer his hand to Jarvis.

"Nice to meet you face-to-face, Detective." Jarvis smiled, and Jim returned it.

"Call me Jim. Have you known Blair for long?"

Blair grinned at him, "Jarv and I had freshman chem together, Jim. We've been terrorizing Rainier since."

"Poor university," the dark-haired man sympathized. Jim grinned, then recalled the conversation he heard as he was entering.

"Who were you married to, Chief?" the big man frowned trying to recall if Blair had ever said anything in the past about being married.

Blair flushed slightly and shook his head. "It's a long story, Jim, and I'll tell you another time. I'm not married now, so don't worry."

Jim raised an eyebrow, but didn't pursue it. He caught Jarvis giving him a speculative look, and wondered about it, but the nurse came in at that moment.

"Blair, we're going to be bringing dinner trays by again, but you need to get up and move around again some more first. The doctor left orders for us to have you up every four hours, and it's time."

"Great." Blair sighed. "Just what I like to spice up dinner-a good dose of pain."

Jarvis stood up, and Michael quickly followed. "This is our cue to leave. Just wanted to stop and see how you were doing, Bear, 'cause Michael came home with all sorts of stories about the show down in the GEH."

Sandburg grimaced. "Then you've heard more than me, Jarv. I've been so doped up the last couple of days that Jim hasn't hardly been able to talk to me. Thanks for comin' by though."

"Sure thing, kiddo. See ya round, okay? And take it easy for a while. Detective, it was nice to meet you."

Jim smiled. 'Bear'? He couldn't wait to hear the story behind this. "You too, Jarvis. Michael." They shook hands again, and the other two men left, holding hands as they walked out the room.

"I gotta pee," Blair said as he began the laborious job of maneuvering up and out of bed.

"Want me to get the nurse?"

"Nah--if you can help me get on my feet I can take it from there."

"So they took the..." Jim's voice trailed off, and he glanced at Blair, gentle humor glinting in his eyes.

"The catheter." Blair sighed deeply. "Yeah, took it out this morning." He shuddered at the memory. "I hope you *never* have to experience that, man. It's enough to totally kill your sex drive for a while, let me tell you."

"Been there, done that, Chief."

"Really?"

Jim nodded, sympathy reflected in his voice, "It hurts like hell, I know. Especially the first few times you go. Don't worry though--another day or so and you won't even remember."

"I hope you're right. The nurse was telling me about this guy she had as a patient once who pulled it out when he was having a seizure." Blair shuddered. "Ouch." He took a deep breath then. "Ready?"

Jim nodded. "What do I need to do?"

"Just let me brace against you. Ohhhh....shit....ah, mmmmmmm..." Blair very carefully levered himself off the bed, using Jim's arms to support him. He sighed when his feet touched the ground. "Finally." He leaned against Jim, face white and sweaty.

"You okay?" Jim could hear the alarm in his voice, and was dimly aware of Blair's voice over the pounding heartbeat he heard.

"Uh-huh. Just takes me a minute, y'know?"

Jim let Blair hold on to his arm as he shuffled to the bathroom, then stood just outside, ready to assist if necessary. After the younger man finished, they moved out into the corridor and began the arduous journey around the nurses' station.

Ellison was aware of the different noises Blair made under his breath as they made their circuit--breathy, low-pitched whimpers and whispers of pain. Twice they had to stop to let Blair catch his breath, and he watched his partner with concerned eyes.

"Sure you're okay?"

"I guess so, man. I like to think they wouldn't make me do this if I wasn't ready to do it."

Jim snorted, then led Sandburg back to his room. As they settled him into bed, he asked casually, "So what's with the 'Bear' name?"

Blair blushed and shrugged carefully. "Just a nickname Jarvis gave me. Said I reminded him of a teddy bear."

"Were you two lovers?"

Blair sighed. "Man, you don't pull any punches, do you? Yeah, we were, six years ago. Well, actually, it's been six years *since* we were together." He smiled at the nurse who brought in the dinner tray, then frowned at the dinner itself. "I thought I got *food* today."

She smiled at him. "That is food, Blair. Eat up!"

He snorted and made a face, poking at the plate. "What *is* it?"

Jim wandered over and peered down. "Beats me. Taste it."

"You taste it--you can tell better than I can."

Jim arched a brow, then stuck a finger into the first mound. "Tapioca pudding." He tested each one cautiously. "Mashed potatoes and brown gravy, and applesauce. That one's jello," he pointed at the reddish mass in a separate bowl.

"Thanks, Jim. I figured *that* one myself." Blair shook his head. "Man, could you bring me in a sandwich tomorrow, or something? This is gonna kill me. Actually, a salad..."

"You can't have any roughage for a few more days, Blair. There's a reason you're eating soft foods, remember?" Jim pointed at Blair's abdomen. "You're recovering from a stab wound in the gut, not to mention nearly six hours worth of surgery..." He stopped at the expression on Blair's face. "Aw, hell, Blair. I'll bring you a sandwich, okay? But *no* salads, until the doctor okays it. Got it?"

Blair nodded, and started eating his pudding. "Thanks, man."

They sat in silence for awhile; Blair eating his dinner, and Jim watching Blair. The nurse came back to collect the dinner tray, check the IV lines, and check the wrapping on Blair's incisions. Jim took a good look at the wound this time, and decided it definitely looked better. Definitely healing.

"So, you want to tell me about the marriage thing, or are you going to leave me guessing?" Jim finally broke the comfortable silence.

Blair gave him an indefinable look. "It really is a long story, Jim."

"I still want to hear it, Chief." He picked up Blair's hand and squeezed gently. "I love you, you know. You can tell me anything--that won't change."

"I love you too, Jim. But given your reaction to the last time I brought this up--" He shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Well, hell. You'll either believe me or you won't."

Jim settled into his chair next to Blair, leaving their fingers entwined. "Sounds pretty serious."

"Yeah. Um...those dreams I was having. Well, Jarvis referred me to a hypnotherapist..."

Blair talked for an hour, recounting the different hypnosis sessions, and the past lives he'd lived--including the ones with Jim. He answered Jim's questions as best he could, and filled in blanks from his memories with his own hypotheses; finally coming to a halt because he had to use the bathroom again.

"The only thing I'm not sure of," Blair grunted with the effort of swinging his legs around to the side of the bed, "is why they--we--kept getting separated. Every time, Jim."

Jim worked on autopilot helping Blair get out of bed and to the bathroom, his mind awhirl the entire time. 'Ian and Ky--my god, I lived that over, too. It was *me* holding Ky--holding Blair--as he died.'

"Jim?" A gentle hand touched his arm, and Jim focused on Blair, emerging from the bathroom, a questioning look on his face. "You all right, big guy?"

"Because I couldn't tell anyone."

"What?" Blair's forehead wrinkled with concentration trying to figure out what Jim meant.

"We were separated in past lives because I couldn't bring myself to let anyone else know we were lovers. For whatever reasons, no matter how valid--I had to learn that it's okay to love you."

Blair looked into Jim's eyes and saw his own emotions reflected there. Love, trust, desire: all of them swirled into one big package. "How do you know?" he whispered, drawn by those eyes, moving closer.

"Because I saw it too." Jim saw Blair sway, and gently brought him into the circle of his arms, supporting him. "I thought I was asleep; hell, I might have been, I don't know. But I had this dream--two, actually--of two men named Ian and Ky. And I had another dream a few nights ago--the night we...the night we first laid together. That one wasn't coherent at all...more like precognition. I saw you in the dream, holding your hands to your stomach, bleeding...pleading with me. But I couldn't hear you...and I fell on my knees begging--someone--to let you live..."

Blair raised a hand up to touch the moisture tracks on Jim's face, then snuggled as close to him as the healing wound and IV pole would allow, offering comfort by his presence.

Jim wiped his face with one hand, then wrapped both arms around Blair again. "We need to get you back into bed, Chief. You're too weak to be up."

"Tell that to the dragons outside," the younger man joked, trying to lighten the mood just a little.

Ellison helped his partner back into bed, and sighed when Blair pressed the call button for the nurse. He knew Blair was hurting; he'd felt the spasms rippling through his body as he held him. The doctor had taken him off the self-medicating device this morning, deeming him healed enough to go on a scheduled regimen of painkillers, should they be necessary. Apparently Blair thought they were now.

He waited until the nurse had brought in a shot of Percocet and departed, then scooted as close to Blair as he could without climbing into bed with him. Blair sighed when he began combing his fingers through the long, silky curls.

"You're beautiful, you know that?"

Blair smiled drowsily. "Nah--no one's ever told me I was beautiful. Gorgeous, maybe."

Jim smiled along with him, still twining pieces of hair through his fingers. "I told Simon that I'm in love with you."

*That* brought those incredible eyes wide open. "What'd you do that for?"

"That's the condition, Blair. I have to be able to tell people who it is I love. I mean, it's not like I have to climb up the Needle and announce it on a PA or anything--but others beside you and me need to know. So I told Simon."

"Whoa, man. Too heavy." Blair leaned back on his pillow, eyes closed. "You're trippin' me out here, Jim. Tell me I imagined what you just said."

"Nope, can't do that. I told him."

"Oh, god, Jim...oh, my god..."

"Hey, baby, relax. Simon's okay with it. A little freaked out maybe, but okay." Jim leaned in closer and snagged Blair's eyes with his own. "I'm not letting you go this time. *Nothing* is getting in the way, understand?"

"I'm beginning to," Blair replied breathlessly.

Jim stared at him a minute longer, then lowered his head to kiss Blair, a long, gentle kiss that spoke more of love than passion--although that smoldered there as well.

When they drew apart both men's eyes were shining with emotion. "I love you," Jim whispered as he gently kissed Blair's mouth again, then his cheeks and eyes.

"I've never stopped loving you," Blair stated, running his fingers across Jim's face. "I can't wait until I'm out of this damned hospital, and home...where I can show you how much I love you."

"Oh, baby..." Jim groaned with the visual that promised, and reluctantly pulled away. "I better go before things get too out of hand. You look tired, sweetheart."

"It's the meds they gave me. And I don't know how out of hand things would get...I was kind of hoping to take things *in* hand." He grinned impishly at Jim, eyes twinkling as he lightened the intensity of the moment. It had the desired effect; Jim groaned, loudly.

"You're a sick man, Blair Sandburg."

"I..." Blair paused to yawn. "...try. Sorry, Jim."

"S'okay, partner. I'm gonna go--you get some rest, and I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"I'm holding you to that, man. I need someone to taste breakfast for me."

Jim shook his head then leaned in for another kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow, Chief."

"Have a good night."

"It's lonely without you there," Jim stood up and moved from the bed.

"Could be worse, Jim...you could be here where you get woken up in the middle of the night to take a pill you didn't ask for."

Jim chuckled. "'Night, Sandburg."

"'Night, Jim."

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Monday, 5/12

"No stairs, no heavy lifting, no strenuous activity--and that includes sex, Mr. Sandburg--and go easy on the roughage in your diet for another week." Dr. Chou closed the medical chart and cast a stern glance at Blair and Jim, cocking an eyebrow after a moment when neither said anything. "No questions?"

"Uh...how long on the restrictions?"

Blair fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he spoke, and Jim had to bite his lip to hide the smile. 'Gosh, babe, which one do you really care about?'

"At least a week--although as far as the lifting goes, nothing heavier than a can of soup for the next week; nothing over ten pounds for another week after that, at least. Your abdominals take a while to heal, Mr. Sandburg--you don't want to rip open what we worked so hard to repair."

"Right. And the no sex?"

Jim's head snapped up, and he felt a sudden increase in the air temperature around his Guide. Blair was blushing.

"Like I said--at least a week." Dr. Chou fixed both of them with his gaze. "And then, take it easy." The doctor looked at both of them, and sighed. "I don't usually involve myself in my patients' sex lives, gentlemen, but for the first few days *after* the restriction period, try to use the side-by-side, or 'spoon' position. It puts less strain on the stomach muscles."

Jim shifted slightly, a little uncomfortable with such frankness from someone he didn't know. "Thanks, Doc," he managed in an almost normal tone.

A sound like a choked cough caught his attention, and Jim shot a look at Blair, found his partner smiling.

"Is that it? Can I go now?" The eagerness in Blair's voice was unmistakable and Jim smiled himself in response.

"Yes. I've signed you out, and you've signed the paperwork. Detective, do you have the prescriptions?"

Jim patted his pocket. "Right here."

"All set, Mr. Sandburg."

"Thanks!" Blair shifted to move off the bed, and Jim pulled the wheelchair over. "Aw, c'mon, Jim..."

"Sorry, Chief. I don't make the rules." He leaned down and kissed Blair's ear and whispered, "Take it easy, okay? You'll be out of here in a minute."

Blair nodded reluctantly, and settled into the chair.

A nurses' aide followed them to the truck to retrieve the wheelchair, and then they were on their own. Jim helped Blair into the cab, wondering how in the hell he was going to get his partner up three flights of stairs when Blair wasn't supposed to *do* stairs?

* * *

"No way, man. You're *not* going to carry me up three flights! You'll get a hernia or something and we'd be right back there, hanging around the emergency room."

"Got any other ideas, Sandburg? If you do, I'd love to hear them." He had to admit to having entertained the idea of picking Blair up a time or two, but that fantasy usually entailed Blair's legs wrapped around his waist, and him slamming the smaller man up against the wall before fucking his brains out. Out-and-out carrying him--150 pounds of unwilling, resisting deadweight-up three flights? Not high on his "want to do" list.

"Man...I don't know. Can I just sleep in the truck?" Blair's eyes looked hopeful and tired and pain-filled, all at once.

"For the next week? I don't think so, Chief."

"Damn."

"Yeah." Jim frowned, then looked at Blair. "Let's go. The longer we take to do this, the longer before we're home." He moved toward his Guide.

Blair sighed resignedly and tried to help by putting his arms around Jim's neck. He groaned when Jim shifted him to pick him up, and the older man immediately stilled.

"I'm sorry, babe."

"S'not your fault, man. It just hurts. C'mon, lover, you said it yourself--we get going, we get home."

This time he held his breath and stifled the small moan of pain as Jim swung him as carefully as he could up into his arms.

It took them fifteen minutes to get up the stairs. Jim had to stop a couple of times to let Blair rest, since the jostling was hard for his still-healing abdomen to handle. He was white and gasping by the time they reached the door to the loft. Jim carried him in and deposited him carefully on the couch.

"Lie down," he commanded when Blair moved to sit up.

"I don't want to lay here."

"Blair--just because they let you come home doesn't mean you're well. It only means you don't require hospitalization any longer."

"I've just spent the last week in bed, flat on my back, practically. I want to get up."

"And do *what*? Huh? Kill yourself? If that's the case then why did I just haul your ass up three flights of stairs? I could have saved myself the trouble and let you walk 'em yourself! Jesus, Blair." Jim watched the surprise and shock run across the younger man's face, a little surprised himself with his outburst. He ran a hand over his hair and sighed with frustration and resignation. "I'm sorry, Chief." He sat down on the couch next to his partner and opened his arms.

Blair hesitated for just a second before leaning into the embrace. "I'm sorry too, Jim. I'm just so tired of doing...nothing. And being *tired* from doing nothing. I'm starting to feel like I'll never have my strength back."

"Yeah you will. It's only been a week since the surgery; give yourself a break, okay?" Jim began twining strands of Blair's hair around his fingers until he was gently rubbing the scalp, his fingers buried deeply in silky curls.

"Mmmm...that's nice," Blair closed his eyes, practically purring. He groaned and opened his eyes when Jim moved him, shifting him into a flat position. "Don't stop...Jim..."

Ellison pointed a finger at him. "Uh-uh, no way. You can flash those eyes at me all you want, buddy, but you're staying on the couch for now."

"Fine. Won't you stay with me, at least?"

"I gotta get your stuff out of the truck, and run down to the station to sign out. *Then* I'll come and sit with you, okay?"

"Okay." Blair snuck a look at Jim to see if the semi-pout was having any effect, and decided it wasn't. He yawned and closed his eyes. What a day!

"Blair." He opened them up again with a start. Jim was standing over him holding out a glass of water and a couple of pills.

"What're these?"

"Same stuff you've been taking in the hospital. Antibiotics and painkiller."

"What *kind* of painkiller?"

"Blair..." A heavy sigh of exasperation. "Percocet."

Sandburg smiled and yawned again. "Percocet, huh? Nighty-night, big guy."

Jim smiled. "Sweet dreams, babe."

He watched until Blair had swallowed the pills, then got him settled comfortably on the couch. His partner was already half asleep when Jim left to go unload the truck.

* * *

Monday afternoon, 5/12

_Wherever he was, it was warm and comfortable. There was a dull ache in his stomach, but it wasn't overwhelming, and he could ignore it. And what was this? A strange, but wholly pleasurable sensation...like butterfly wings touching each part of his face, skipping from here to there and back again. He smiled, and tried to see the butterflies to catch them... _

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

"Mmmm."

"Blair...c'mon, babe. You need to wake up and eat."

"Mmm-mmm. No..."

Jim leaned over the back of the couch and considered the sleeping man. The soft kisses and caresses on his face and neck obviously weren't enough--maybe it was time to call out the bigger guns. He walked around the couch and knelt on the floor next to Blair.

The butterflies morphed into something larger, something more sensuous. Warm, soft, moist...it felt like...

"Ah, Jim..."

Jim pulled his head away and watched Blair's eyes open, pupils wide and glassy; looked at the perfect mouth, lips lush and ready. He lowered his head again, and breathed, "Blair," across those lips before molding his mouth to them again.

A gentle but hungry exploration of each other's mouths. They hadn't had a chance to do this yet; hadn't had a chance to do much of anything yet. The one time they'd come together had been fast, frenzied, *needy*. Now they had time. They could explore the sweetness, combine the sex with love.

"Oh, man," Blair muttered when Jim finally released him. He touched a finger to his lips--they felt all swollen and tingly...much like other parts of his body.

"You need to get up for a little while, move around, eat something." Jim sat back on his heels, watching his lover process everything.

"You were just telling me I needed to rest. Pick a side and stick with it, big guy."

"That was five hours ago, Chief." Jim watched Sandburg's eyes open wide in surprise.

"No way."

"Believe it, babe. You sacked out like nothing I've ever seen before. I was gone for almost two of those; figured you'd be awake by the time I got home, but you were out like a light."

"Well that explains why I'm hungry...among other things." Blair shifted on the couch, uncomfortable, but not from his injury for a change.

"What's wrong?"

"I gotta go, man, but I think that'll be a problem for a little while."

Jim's eyes traveled down Blair's body, taking in the erection pushing out the front of his sweats. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, resolving not to let it affect him. That lasted until he opened his eyes again.

"C'mon," he stood and offered Blair a hand up off the couch. "I got dinner ready. Let's eat, and I'll fill you in on all the details of the case. Simon briefed me while I was down at the station signing out."

"What'd you sign out for?"

"I took a couple weeks of vacation time. No," Jim held up a hand to forestall any argument. "You're gonna need some help for the next few days until you can get around a little better--and I want to spend some time with you. This is...this is a whole new aspect of *us*, and I want some time to enjoy it before real life intrudes. Okay?"

Blair stared at him, eyes moist and shining. "Yeah. I love you, Jim." He wrapped his arms around Jim's waist and hugged the other man tightly.

"Love you too, babe," Jim replied hoarsely, the proximity of that warm body re-igniting his own fuse. They held that position for long moments, until Jim felt the vibration of Blair's stomach rumbling. "C'mon, let's eat." He drew the younger man over to the table and motioned for him to sit.

"So what're you feeding me?"

"Well, I know it's kind of weird, but I made some clam chowder." Jim shrugged at the question on Blair's face. "It sounded good."

"Food, period, sounds good right now. Did you make the bread too?" Blair teased as Jim set a basket of bread chunks on the table.

"No, wise-ass, I didn't. Got that from the store. Oh, here," he handed Blair more medication.

"'Oh, here'," Blair mocked as he threw the pills back and swallowed them. "Trying to turn me into a druggie?" He took a big drink of water and shuddered.

"No, I'm trying to get you well." Jim glowered at Blair, ignoring the smirk. "Shut up and eat, Sandburg."

"Yes, sir!"

"Keep it up...you'll get yours."

"Promise?"

Jim sighed. "Eventually."

They were both quiet for several moments as they contemplated *that*, then Jim refocused his attention.

"So, do you want me to fill you in on everything?"

"Yeah," Blair mumbled around a large mouthful of soup. "Mmm. S'good, Jim."

"Thanks. Okay, let's see. Sethos slipped away from us. We've sent our information on the crimes here to Interpol, but actually we don't know that he *did* anything. We've hypothesized that he was behind the break-in and vandalism at the museum, but we don't know for sure...and without anyone to confirm or deny, all we have is conjecture for that."

"He threatened to kill me," Blair reminded him.

"*I* know, and you know...but it was verbal, there were no other witnesses, and he didn't actually do anything. Anyway. We *have* learned that Boussard was a member of the cult--we've had confirmation from the Egyptian Consulate, working through the State Department here. Simon had the information sent to them when we reported the death--since it was an ambassador and his aide, of course the feds had to be involved--and they were kind enough to reciprocate." Jim's snort expressed *his* opinion about reciprocity with the State Department, but left it at that.

"Anyway," he continued, "We've managed to link Sarina to Boussard through her father--they were acquaintances when Boussard went to school, and we found some journals and letters tucked away in a box in her apartment--stuff we missed in the first search; correspondence between her and her father, talking about the cult. Seems Sarina discovered information about the cult during her studies and asked her father about it. *He* wasn't interested in it, but put her in contact with Boussard. There's correspondence between them as well." Jim paused to eat some of his soup, giving Blair a chance to take it all in.

"So Sarina was involved all along, wasn't she?" Blair pushed his bowl away, grief etched onto his face.

"Looks that way, Chief." Jim reached over and took Blair's hand. "I'm sorry. I know you liked her--she did seem like a nice kid."

"She was," Blair replied, absently. "Very enthusiastic about what she was doing. It just...hurts, y'know? That she was friendly and all...that she came on to me like she did, knowing what she was going to do." He pushed his hair out of his face. "So, what's the rest of it?"

"Well, there's not much more. Boussard knew about the exhibit, of course, because of the Ambassador, but he didn't have an in until Sarina wrote him and told him she was working on the planning committee. We have that correspondence too--courtesy of the State Department. Boussard contacted Sethos then, and told him that the cult had an active member who was on the inside and could work for them. Sethos, we've learned, is--or was--one of the high priests for the Egyptian-based sect of the cult. It was just a matter then of getting Sethos over here to get things going."

"How'd Sarina and her father come to be involved in Egyptian politics and religions?"

"Sarina's paternal grandmother is Egyptian. We wanted to question her, but found out she passed away just a few months ago."

"And Sarina's father?"

"He's been questioned, of course, but he's not actually a member of the cult--he only put Sarina in touch with Boussard." Jim watched Blair's face, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "You okay, babe?"

"Yeah. So Sarina stabbing me had nothing to do with the rest of it."

It wasn't a question, but Jim answered it like it was. "No-not as far as we can tell, anyway. I think it was more emotion-motivated. I didn't know she came on to you, but just based on the way she acted around you--and the fact that her pheromones went off the scale if you were around, I figure she had a helluva crush on you, Chief."

"She did," he responded sadly. "I remember sympathizing with her situation after I turned her down, 'cause I was going through something similar." Blair got up from the table and went to sit on the couch, stretching out a little to relieve the ache that had started in his stomach.

"Yeah?"

"Over you. I was at the point where it was almost painful to be around you sometimes, but I wasn't going to jeopardize our friendship. I could only imagine your reaction if I'd come on to you--and it usually involved you throwing me out on my ass."

"Didn't happen though, did it?" Jim got up and got a beer from the fridge. "Want some more water? Tea?"

"Beer'd be nice..."

"Not while you're on narcotics, babe."

Blair sighed. "Tea, I guess. No, it didn't; in fact, you managed to surprise the *hell* out of me that night I gave you the backrub." He arched an eyebrow at Jim as the other man sat down next to him. "Is there anything from your past you'd like to share? 'Cause you sure as hell didn't come off as a totally het guy without any experience with men."

Jim took a swallow from his beer. "There've been a few in the past."

"Like how far in the past?"

"I haven't been with another guy since I got out of Vice, and that's going on five years now. And it'd been years before that." Jim shrugged. "Usually I'd wind up with another guy if we were on remote for a while--there weren't women in the Ranger units, back then, anyway--you know, kind of a 'let's relieve some mutual pressure' type of thing."

"A buddy fuck."

"Yeah, I guess so. I don't know--it was more than that I suppose, but I never had a lasting relationship with a guy, either. I generally preferred a woman, if I was given the choice, but never minded a guy."

Blair raised his eyes to meet Jim's. "And now?"

"Now, I couldn't imagine life without you, Blair. I don't *want* to imagine life without you. I knew when I saw Sarina stab you that there was never going to be anyone else for me."

Blair shifted and snuggled into Jim's side, enjoying the feel of the heavy, warm arm draped across his shoulders. "I think we're in agreement on that one, man. I can't imagine not being with you, seeing you, talking to you. That was the main reason I never said anything to you--I still got that with our just being friends, and I figured it could be enough." Blair shifted away slightly and smiled, a hot sexy smile that stirred Jim's blood to see it. "Now I know it wouldn't have been."

Jim wiggled slightly as Blair's fingers began trailing up and down his shirt front. "Sandburg..."

"Yeah?"

"Cool it. You heard the doctor--no sex."

"This isn't sex, Jim. This is love--and teasing, and...well, whatever you want it to be."

"It'll lead to sex."

"It doesn't have to."

Jim snorted. "Right. You expect me to believe that?" He corralled the fingers. "Enough, Chief. I'm in a bad enough state without you making it worse."

Blair drew away reluctantly. "You are like *no* fun, man." He got off the couch, and Jim heard the slight hiss of air against teeth as he moved.

"Where're you going?"

The younger man chuckled. "Bathroom. I had to go when I woke up, although it would've been impossible at the time, thanks to that kiss you laid on me. Better go while the goin's good, you know?"

"We are *not* doing anything tonight, Sandburg," Jim called down the hallway after him.

Blair turned and threw Jim a smoldering look over his shoulder, and Jim felt his body and his mind begin a battle for control.

* * *

"You ready to go to bed, Chief?" Jim flipped the lights off in the kitchen, then yawned. It'd been a long day, all things considered, and he hadn't had a five-hour nap like his partner.

"Bed yes, sleep no." Blair lounged on the couch, eyeing him speculatively.

Jim shook his head. "You know we can't do anything--you heard the doctor as well as I did."

"He said sex, man. He didn't say we can't have a little fun." Blair's eyes twinkled with a mischievous light, and a sexy little grin played on his lips. Jim swallowed hard.

"Define 'fun'."

"You know...kissing, cuddling, touching."

Jim leaned against the table and crossed his arms. "Can you do that and not want more?"

"Probably not, but I'll be happy with what I get," Blair replied honestly.

"I don't know, Chief. You should go on to bed, and I'll go on to bed...and we can pick this up in a week."

"What?!"

Jim nodded his chin toward the stairs. "You can't do 'em, and I don't think I should take the chance of dropping you if I don't have to. This morning we didn't have a choice; tonight we do."

"That's *not* a choice, Jim." Blair crossed his own arms over his chest. "Sleep with me?"

Jim closed his eyes against the pleading in Blair's. "Your bed's so small..." He opened them again when warm arms encircled his neck, and a solid body pressed carefully against him. 'When did Blair get up?'

"Please?" A wet tongue gently traced along his collarbone, Blair's breath cool against the moisture as he breathed the word into Jim's skin.

"Blair...you're not playing fair," he gasped, his own arms coming up of their own volition to circle the other man's waist, body drooping slightly to accommodate his shorter partner.

"I never said I would. I've wanted you for too long, Jim." Blair pressed a light kiss to the side of Jim's neck, feeling the muscles move under his lips as the other man groaned. "We've lost a week already because I was in the hospital; let's start making up the time."

"Blair..." Jim's voice shook with his effort to hang on to his control--very hard to do with Blair nibbling on his neck-- "I don't think this is a good idea. What if you hurt yourself? Pull something loose? I--mmph!"

The irritating questions were silenced when Blair pulled Jim's head downward and covered his mouth with his own. A soft warm tongue caressed those lips until Jim opened his mouth with a groan and allowed Blair inside.

When they surfaced for air sometime later, Jim discovered that his shirt was hanging open, and the top button of his jeans was undone. Blair's tee-shirt was pulled out of his sweats, and they were both breathing hard, clinging to each other with the intensity of the feelings flowing through them.

"Please," Blair whispered, his face buried in Jim's chest. "Stay with me tonight...I just want to feel you near me, and wake up with your arms around me. There'll be enough room...please, Jim?"

They stumbled into the small room, hands caressing gently, working to remove the clothing both still wore. Blair sat down on the edge of the bed to remove his pants and Jim pushed his hands away, reaching for them himself. He took extra care sliding the sweats off, then spent several minutes tenderly kissing the area now covered in steri-strips. He could feel the tensing and shifting under his lips as Blair's stomach muscles flexed, and tears sprang to his eyes as he realized how close they'd come to losing each other again.

As if he sensed Jim's mood, a gentle hand reached down to rub Jim's head, fingers gliding effortlessly across the short hair, massaging the scalp underneath. Jim kissed his way back up Blair's body, shifting onto the bed as he rose, and found his mouth again, plundering with a desperate hunger he hadn't been aware of.

Blair stretched out on the bed, drawing Jim with him to maintain the intense kiss. He pulled the larger man as close as he could manage in the limited maneuvering space, his fingers moving downward, caressing Jim's hard body.

Jim was dimly aware of Blair's hand caressing his stomach, moving steadily lower until the warm fingers drew his hard, aching organ out of his boxers. He groaned when Blair tightened his grip on him, and began to gently rock his hips in time with the strokes; at the same time, he reached for Blair.

They lost track of each other then, melding into one cohesive entity, hearts beating in time with one another, tongues gently caressing, hips undulating in a dual rhythm. Jim stopped trying to hold on to his control and allowed himself to be swept into the tidal wave of sensation that was washing over both of them. He felt his orgasm beginning, the fluids rushing toward release, the pressure both welcome and maddening. He reached with his free hand to cup and fondle Blair's balls, rolling them gently from side to side, and was greeted with a loud groan of approval. He could feel the blood pounding under Blair's skin, the steady beat of systolic and diastolic pressure now a constant roar as his lover approached his peak.

They came at nearly the same moment, hot creamy fluids erupting over them, both gasping and panting as they released the pent-up tension and passion.

Jim gathered Blair into his arms, careful of the healing wound, and cradled him close. "Sleep now, baby...I've got you..." He murmured the soft words over and over, feeling Blair's body relax into his embrace. Just before his lover drifted off, he heard him mumble, and turned his hearing up to hear.

"Told you it'd be okay..."

Jim smiled and allowed himself to be carried into sleep by the rhythm of Blair's heart beating.

* * *

Tuesday morning, 5/13

Jim woke with a start, legs tangled with Blair's. The pink hues brushing against the walls told him that it was dawn, but not much more. His Guide snuffled in his sleep and rolled over onto his side; Jim could hear the tiny hitch in his breathing as his brain registered pain from the movement, even through sleep. What had woken him up? There it was again, a strange scratching noise at the door.

He got out of bed carefully, not wanting to disturb the man who needed sleep so badly, and grabbed his gun from its perch on Blair's desk. Jim crossed the living room stealthily and pulled the door open, gun held at ready.

"Michael! What are you doing here?"

The young man blanched at the gun, and Jim lowered it quickly. "I didn't mean to wake you up, Detective. I was just trying to figure out where to leave a note for Blair--" Michael held up the piece of paper. "Dr. Hathaway called me last night to give me the new opening information for the exhibit."

"He's sleeping right now, but I'll give it to him when he wakes up."

Michael nodded. "That's cool, thanks. Tell him I'll call later and give him all the details, okay?"

"No problem."

"Thanks. See ya 'round."

Jim shut the door and set the note on the table. A quick trip to the bathroom, and he headed back toward Blair's room.

The body on the small bed hadn't moved an inch, but he got in slowly, taking care not to jostle. After last night, he imagined that he could jostle all he wanted, and Blair wouldn't mind--assuming he even woke up--but he wasn't going to take that chance. The more his lover slept, the faster he would heal.

Last night. Jim felt a wide grin pulling at his face as he settled himself, spooning against Blair's back. The younger man smelled of sweat and musk and semen--both of theirs--and, more faintly, the medications he'd been taking for the last week. Underneath all of that was the scent that made up Blair, and Jim breathed it all in deeply, filling his lungs, feeling his body stirring with the memory of how those scents came to be.

Ellison sternly clamped down on his wayward thoughts, telling himself that it wouldn't be much longer until Blair was healed, and then they could indulge as often as they wanted; doing anything they wanted. Until then... He closed his eyes, and slid back into sleep.

* * *

As it happened, they slept until nearly 11:00a.m., when the phone rang and woke them up. Jim handed the phone to Blair, who'd taken longer to get out of bed, and went to make some coffee. He glanced at the clock and wondered idly if he should fix them breakfast or lunch, then decided he needed to wake up first, before he worried about eating. He listened with half an ear to Blair's end of the conversation, noting that his lover didn't say much beyond a bunch of "uh-huhs", "yeahs" and "sures".

Blair hung up the phone with a strange expression on his face, just as Jim was bringing coffee into the living room. He handed Blair the antibiotic, then questioned, "Do you think you need the painkiller?"

His partner thought for a minute. "Do we have anything else? I don't think I need the Percocet, but maybe some Tylenol, or something?"

Jim nodded. "Actually, there was a prescription for you for some Tylenol. Let me get some for you."

He returned in short order with the medication, and a big glass of milk. Blair made a face and raised an eyebrow, and Jim grinned.

"Says to take with food or milk, buddy. We're not even awake enough yet to think about food--make do with that for now, okay?"

"I hate milk, Jim."

"Deal with it, Chief."

The voice didn't allow for argument, and Blair stuck his tongue out. "You know, you're a real pain in the ass about this."

Jim grinned. "Yeah? Well, good. I want you *well* again, babe. And while I'd like to pretend it's all for altruistic reasons, I have some selfish ones too."

"Can't wait to hear about 'em," Blair grinned as he tossed the pills back.

"So what'd Michael have to say?"

"Asked me if I understood everything in the note, but wasn't really surprised when I told him I hadn't read it yet. What time did he drop it off?"

Jim shrugged. "A little after six, I think. It was daylight, but barely."

"I never heard a thing." There was wonder in Blair's voice-how could he sleep so long and so hard?

"Your body is still healing, Chief. You obviously needed the rest. So what else did he say?"

"Opening night for the exhibit is set now for Monday, May twenty-sixth. It's gonna be a big bash, too. They're inviting the Mayor, the Governor...Michael mentioned something about a couple of other state politicians, and of course the higher-ranked U personnel."

"Of course," Jim echoed faintly. 'A fucking security nightmare, that's what this'll be!' "Uh, did he mention where you fit into all of this?"

Blair threw him an annoyed look. "I'll be *fine* to go back to work next week, Jim. It's only paperwork on this end now. And since we don't have to worry about strange Egyptian cultists skulking around--"

"You don't know that, Chief. I told you we never apprehended Sethos."

"Yeah, and like he's stupid enough to stick around to get caught?"

"He's an expert terrorist. Wanted for bombings. You don't have to be *close* to set off a bomb."

"I'm willing to bet he's nowhere *near* Cascade, lover. What would be the point?"

Jim shook his head. "We'll discuss your going back to work later. It's a moot point at that moment, anyway."

Another look, this one more irritated than annoyed. "You can turn down the Blessed Protector meter, Jim. There's nothing *to* discuss. I'm restricted for a week--I'll live with that. After that..." Blair spread his hands out, and Jim flashed on the long, finely-boned, elegant fingers. "...I'm a grown man. I can do as I please."

"Even if I don't want you to?"

"Jim..." Blair sighed. "Just because we're lovers doesn't give you the right to control me. I didn't hand you the keys and say 'drive'...it's still *my* life."

"I don't want to lose you," Jim whispered, turning away from Blair.

Another sigh, this one more weary than anything else. Blair got off the couch and went to put his arms around Jim. The older man stood stiffly in the loose circle. "Jim...we don't have any control over how long we have with each other--we just have to accept the time that's given to us. If it's cut short in this lifetime, there'll be another; we know that. C'mon, babe." Blair ran his hands up and down Jim's arms and was encouraged when his lover relaxed and leaned into the embrace.

He *wasn't* prepared for the hungry, demanding mouth that swooped down and latched on to his, tongue thrusting greedily. Two strong hands came up to grab handfuls of his hair, effectively holding his head still while Jim plundered his mouth.

The kiss ended as abruptly as it'd begun, and Jim clutched Blair to him like a drowning man holds a life preserver. "Don't leave me. Promise you won't leave me," Jim whispered harshly, the sound of tears in his voice.

"I can't promise something I don't have control over...but I will promise to love you forever, regardless of whether we're together or apart. Jim...Jim, look at me." Blair pushed away slightly, ignoring the twinge in his abdomen, and ducked until he could snag Jim's eyes with his own. "Listen to me, okay? This is *not* something we have control over--this is something we have to accept and make the most of. I'm not *planning* on going anywhere--and I feel fairly certain everything's okay. We broke the cycle, lover. *You* broke the cycle. I'm alive, we found each other, we're together. Let's just be glad for that, all right? Jim?" Blair stabbed Jim with a finger, trying to emphasize his point.

"All right," came the low response.

Blair guided Jim over to the couch and pushed him into a sitting position, then laid down and curled up against him, using the bigger man's leg for a pillow. All that had worn him out. He was just going to close his eyes for a few minutes...

Jim rested a hand on Blair's hair, enjoying the feel of it beneath his sensitive fingers. He listened to the soft sounds Blair's body made as he slept: the little breathy whispers, the beat of his heart, the noise the blood in his veins made. If he concentrated, Jim could track the flow out of Blair's heart as it cycled through him.

He shook his head, considering the conversation they'd just had. His Guide would never cease to amaze and surprise him. 'He's been my Guide in our other lives too,' Jim mused. 'Maybe not in the same way as with the sentinel thing, but he's always been the wiser of the two of us. Is that why I trusted him so implicitly from the beginning? Because I sensed that it was okay to?' The detective shifted, trying to get a little more comfortable now that he had dead weight lying on his lap. Stupid, to lose it like that over such an irrational thing. 'Well, maybe not so irrational--after all, I've lost him three times before, at least.'

Allowing himself to take comfort in what Blair had pointed out--that the cycle did indeed appear to be broken--Jim sat there, just caressing Blair's hair and enjoying the presence of his Guide...his friend...his lover.

* * *

Thursday morning, 5/15

"Hey, lazybones."

Jim opened his eyes at the gentle nudge that accompanied the greeting. "Hey, yourself."

Blair scooted closer--not that they could be far apart in this bed--and leaned in for a kiss. It started as a sweet, easy kiss, lips meeting and pressing lightly, then turned suddenly into something hard and fierce as the flames fanned again.

Jim shifted onto his back and without breaking the kiss pulled Blair onto him, reveling in the warm, soft body blanketing his. Hands began a roaming exploration, skimming across flesh that was rapidly heating, cupping and rubbing buttocks that flexed beneath his touch, pressing their bodies together.

Blair drew away with a soft moan, and Jim instantly stilled his hands, feeling the skin of Blair's stomach spasm.

"No, don't stop, man...it feels so good to have you touching me."

"I hurt you."

"No, you didn't--there're just a few tender spots, that's all. Come on, Jim, please..." Blair flashed wide blue eyes at his partner, and smiled.

"I don't want to hurt you, babe."

"I'll let you know if it really hurts, big guy. I promise." Blair leaned back in for another kiss, this one moving down Jim's neck to gently nip at the soft skin there. Jim rolled them onto their sides, then hissed with pleasure and arched his head back, allowing Blair's teeth to graze over his Adam's apple.

They lost themselves in the pleasure of each other's bodies for several long minutes after that, teeth and lips gently caressing, hips beginning to undulate. Blair moved closer to Jim, and grasped his hipbone, pulling their bodies--and their cocks-into alignment with each other, gasping at the sensation. If they did this a thousand times a day he'd never tire of the feel of Jim's body rubbing against his.

He threw his head back, panting as he tried to breathe and ride the wave of pleasure and pain; groaned out loud as it crested and he fell into it. "Jim!...Oh, god...yesyesyesyesyes...", thrusting hard against the hand that was stroking him. He felt warm wetness on his stomach and looked up to see Jim's face contorted in a grimace of pleasure, not breathing or making any noise. It wasn't until his body stopped spasming that Jim began breathing again, panting harshly to replace the lost oxygen.

"What was *that*?" Blair asked, when he was capable of speech again.

"Intense," Jim smiled at him, eyes still hot. Blair felt his body respond to the heat in that gaze, and drew Jim's head down to his to kiss him again.

"Mmmm...," he said when he pulled away. "I could get used to waking up like this every morning. D'you think Simon would mind us coming in late every day?"

Jim groaned as he tried to shift into a sitting position. "I think he would. I don't know if my body could do this *every* day, Chief. Have some pity and remember I'm older than you are."

Blair captured an arm and tugged a not-very-resisting Jim back to him. "You're surprisingly well preserved for such an ancient specimen," he laughed as his tongue caressed Jim's nipples.

The bigger man groaned again and arched into the mouth that was teasing him. He buried his fingers in Blair's hair and held his head steady. "Jesus, Blair...this is getting out of control here, babe."

"Why?" Blair pulled back for a moment to ask, then leaned back in to torment the other nipple.

"Oh...god...'cause you're making me so hot, baby...the...I..." Jim groaned when he felt Blair's mouth leave his nipple and begin traveling south. A tongue dipped into his navel, and Jim rasped, "You're...killing me...Blair..."

Then the torturous mouth was gone altogether, and Jim gasped with the loss. Blair lay on his side, arm propping him up, staring at him.

"What?" 'God, he's going to kill me for real...tease me to death.'

One finger traced an outline of his nipples. "I love you."

"I love you too." Jim closed his eyes, prayed for a quick death to end this torture, then opened them again, meeting the smoky-blue eyes with his own. "I want you, Blair. I want to bury myself in you...feel you under me...take what's mine. And you're *mine*, babe."

Blair felt the hot words pulse through him, and he lowered his head to kiss Jim again, moaning softly as large hands came up to caress his chest, teasing sensitive nubs. "Yours," he breathed as Jim claimed his mouth for another deep, mind-numbing kiss; his body beginning to move against Jim's once again.

* * *

Thursday afternoon, 5/15

"Hey, Jim."

"Yeah?"

"Would you have fifty kinds of conniptions if I had Michael bring some of the paperwork I need to do over here tonight? I can do some of it from here, and--"

Jim walked from the bathroom, where he'd been scrubbing the tub, to the living area. Blair was sitting at the kitchen table, laptop open in front of him, glasses on and hair tied back. In short, looking like his old self. A wave of resentment coursed through Jim. 'Damned exhibit--he nearly dies because of it and still can't leave it alone.'

"I thought we talked about this already."

"I thought we did, too, man." Jim's words were enough to tell Blair all he needed to know. "I was serious, Jim. You can't live my life for me. I haven't been taken off the planning committee, they just moved the date back some. I still have responsibilities."

"You're not better."

"I'm better enough to have sex with you twice a day, but not to do some paperwork at the table?"

Jim flinched. "I--"

"And don't you dare tell me you didn't want to do any of that, James Ellison! Man, we're talking like major double standards here."

"We didn't have sex," Jim blurted out. "You said so yourself. Called it teasing."

"So you can justify it like that?"

"Listen, Sandburg...I *didn't* want to get started doing anything until you were totally healed--'til the doctor's restriction period had ended. But you..."

"Is this where you say I took unfair advantage of you? That is *so* not true, man. You wanted it as bad as I did." Blair paused, as Jim's words sank it. "And what's with this 'Sandburg' shit?"

"What the hell else should I call you? You're not acting like Blair, or Chief, or babe...you're being a...a..."

"A what? A spoiled brat because I'm not getting my own way? I'm an *adult*, Jim. I don't *have* to ask your permission to do something; I did because we're *partners*--lovers, life partners now--and I was trying to...be considerate. Man, *nothing* is going to happen to me, doing paperwork here at home."

Jim sat heavily on the couch, staring at his hands. He raised his eyes to look at Blair. "Why are we fighting all the time? We never used to...never argued all that much."

Blair sighed as all of the steam left his argument.

"We're adjusting to a new relationship, lover." He joined Jim on the couch. "Your protective instincts have kicked into overdrive, and *I'm* not used to that level, anymore than you are. It'll take some time...but we'll get used to it." He grinned then, to lighten the mood a little, "Besides, one of the perks of fighting is making up."

Jim accepted the invitation and pressed Blair backward, straddling the younger man without touching him, seeking out that mouth that never failed to set him on fire.

"See?" Blair gasped when they broke apart. "That's the nice part. Now, can you deal with the other? Or do we go round two?"

"Just be careful, okay? That's all I ask."

"I--" Blair clamped his mouth shut on his reply, that he'd be likelier to get hurt sleeping with Jim than he would by doing paperwork. "Yeah, I will. Now c'mere." He pulled Jim back down to him.

* * *

Saturday, 5/17

"What d'you want for lunch?"

Blair looked up from his computer screen, startled by Jim's voice. "Oh, I dunno. What're my choices?"

"Sandwiches or sandwiches." Jim smiled. "I need to get groceries."

"Ah. Well, I guess I'll take sandwiches then." Blair stood up and stretched, the hem of his tee-shirt riding above his waistband.

Jim watched the skin appear with a sense of longing and anticipation. 'It doesn't matter how often I look at him...I keep wanting more.' He reached a gentle finger out to trace the pink scar. Blair had abandoned the steri-strips yesterday, stating that air would do him more good now than covering the newly healed incision.

Blair started with surprise when Jim dropped to his knees in front of him, gently pushing the sweats down a little more. "Uh, Jim..." To his confusion though, Jim didn't do anything beyond trace a finger again across his scar, then lean in to kiss it gently. He cradled Jim's head against his stomach, startled to feel the wet of tears against his skin. He shifted down onto his own knees. "You okay, man?"

Jim nodded his head. "I don't know what that was all about. Just..." he broke off, not sure of what to say. "Just had the urge."

"To cry over my stomach," Blair said dryly.

"Yeah," the Sentinel smiled. "You know, I can *see* the difference in the new skin and the old? And the gradations of scar tissue." He paused, running a finger across the scar again. "I can feel a temperature difference, too. The scar is slightly cooler...and feels smoother--probably because there aren't any hair follicles."

Blair smiled. Jim was running his own test, using *him* as a guinea pig. Well, whatever. "C'mon, big guy. I'm hungry." He stood, tugging Jim up with him. "I could probably eat some lunch, too," he teased gently. It pulled a smile from his partner, so it was worth it. "Want help getting groceries?"

"You can't do the stairs. Or carry anything."

"I'm perfectly capable of doing the stairs...I did the ones in here yesterday, when you ran out to get a paper. And I never said I was going to carry anything." Blair mentally held his breath, waiting for the expected reaction.

Jim sucked a breath in, and stared at his lover. "Sandburg..." Then he shook his head, as if realizing the futility of a lecture, and instead leaned in to kiss him. "What am I going to do with you?" he muttered against Blair's lips.

The younger man shrugged. "Love me?"

"I already do. C'mon, we'll get a bite out. Just--you'll tell me if there's a problem, right?"

Blair nodded. "As long as I take things slow and easy, I'm okay."

His partner looked dubious, but nodded. "Let's go then."

* * *

The two men had Chinese for lunch, then headed for the grocery store. It had taken them longer than it normally would've to navigate the stairs, but as long as he wasn't carrying Blair, Jim didn't mind. He matched his pace with his lover's, slowing imperceptibly whenever his senses picked up indications of strain or discomfort.

It was good to get out, for both of them. Jim hadn't gone out but once or twice since bringing Blair back to the loft; Blair hadn't been out at all, excepting his trip home from the hospital, since he was wounded nearly two weeks ago.

They argued good-naturedly over the usual things at the store: which brand of coffee to get, which mushrooms and tomatoes looked fresher, brown eggs or white. Jim was relieved at how *normal* it seemed; he'd been wondering if they were ever going to find a balance again between the old and the new. 'Not that I have a problem *at all* with the way the relationship is...just that I miss the easy-going of the old.' Maybe Blair was right, and they were just readjusting. He smiled. Of course Blair was right-as far as guiding him went, his partner hadn't been wrong yet.

They paused in the pharmaceutical section, almost instinctively drawn to the isle that contained condoms and lubricants. Blair halted the cart in front of the display, and turned to Jim with an eyebrow raised.

"I don't think we're going to need those," Jim said firmly. "Unless you're more comfortable...?"

Blair shook his head. "My last test was clean...I've been careful...and I haven't had sex in six months."

Jim's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Six *months*? Jesus, Sandburg, why not?"

"Wasn't the right person." Jim drew a deep breath at the love shining from those incredible eyes. He reached a hand out and grabbed a couple of tubes of the lube and tossed them in the cart.

"Only two?" Blair teased.

"We haven't had a need for *any*, yet. Let's see how we do with this, okay?"

"Sure, Jim," his lover grinned at him.

* * *

Blair took a couple of Tylenol and a nap when they got home, worn out from the unaccustomed exercise. Jim put the groceries away and puttered around the loft putting things away, straightening up. He found himself watching Blair as he slept, and flicking his eyes toward the stairs to his bedroom. If Sandburg could do the stairs, then they could sleep upstairs tonight. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy being *that* close to his friend; rather that he wanted the room to stretch out.

A gentle snort drew his attention back to Blair, and Jim felt his heart clench at the same time heat shot straight to his groin. His lover lay there on the couch, hair mussed from sleep, legs spread slightly, one knee raised. That beautiful mouth-made just for kissing and being kissed--was pursed, as if waiting to be kissed.

'Jesus, even in his sleep he can rouse me like no one else has ever done.' The thought slammed into Jim and he turned away, a little shaky over the hold this man held on him.

* * *

Saturday night, 5/17

The atmosphere was charged with electricity and tension as they got ready for bed. Something had changed, but Jim wasn't sure what it was. 'Was it bringing Blair up here? Actually having him in my--our--bed?' He gazed pensively at Blair, wondering if he felt the currents as well. Something told him he did; his partner seemed almost fey at times, picking up on subtle changes in the air around them.

He stood at the foot of the bed, watching his lover with hungry eyes; the smaller man was spread out on the bed, waiting patiently for him.

Blair felt the heat of Jim's gaze and felt his own body temperature begin to rise. Jim must have sensed it too, because the fire in his eyes picked up intensity, until the younger man had to break the connection or risk getting scorched. He looked away, desire curling through him.

The bed dipped, and Jim stretched out along side of him, running a hand gently down his chest. "How's your stomach?"

"Feels fine." There was a breathy quality to Blair's voice, like he'd just run up the stairs.

"Yeah...feels fine to me, too," Jim rasped, fingers tracing circles on the warm skin of Blair's belly before moving upward to his chest, combing through the fine, soft hairs.

Blair uttered what sounded like a hysterical giggle, and arched into Jim's hands. "Touch me," he begged in a ragged voice. "Please."

"God, yes..." Jim's words were a whisper against Blair's neck as he kissed his way up to the full, sensuous mouth waiting for him. He gave a throaty groan as that mouth opened under his, sweet warmth beckoning him in. Tonight his lover tasted like the red wine he'd had with dinner...dark, rich, sweet. Forbidden pleasures and hidden desires. The thoughts, tastes and smells combined into a heady draught, and Jim drank from the source until he was dizzy.

He moved from Blair's mouth after sucking on that full lower lip, trailing kisses down, following the jawline. The contrast of stubble and soft skin against his tongue was highly erotic, and he licked over the trail he'd just kissed. The sensitive, untouched skin on the underside of Blair's jaw beckoned him then, and he paused to suck on it briefly, drawing a groan of pleasure from his lover. Moving on further down, Jim stopped to nip sharply at the juncture of shoulder and neck, licking over the bite before placing a hard, sucking kiss there. Blair growled low in his throat and arched against Jim's mouth.

Jim backed off then, wanting--needing--more. He watched Blair through eyes that were dark and hot with desire, feeling the flames rage higher when his lover stretched enticingly for him.

"I want you, Blair. I need to feel you surrounding me, feel myself throbbing inside you."

"God, Jim...yes..." Blair breathed the last word, barely able to make his brain function after the meltdown from Jim's words. He raised himself up onto his knees, joining Jim who was kneeling beside him; their erections stood proudly, wantonly, and both men groaned when they touched against each other.

Jim's arms encircled the younger man, and Blair brought his hands up to rest on the hard muscles of Jim's chest. A deep kiss then, full of promises made and kept, of passion and desire, love and sex.

Blair moved back, but stayed within the circle of Jim's arms, gazing into the eyes of his future, his past. "Are you sure? Really sure this is what you want?"

Jim took Blair's hand from his chest where it was trying to restrain him. Lifting the younger man's fingers to his lips, he kissed them one by one. "Babe," the Sentinel rubbed his Guide's fingers along his own jaw, savoring the feel of them. "I'm absolutely sure. I want this. I've always wanted this. In the past, now, and in the future. We're meant to be together. Don't you see? I love you, Blair, in this time and the next."

Blair felt himself tremble with emotion as Jim drew him forward. Lips to lips, he whispered, "I love you, too, Jim. Always. As it was meant to be." He leaned toward Jim and took the older man's lips in a fierce kiss, at once claiming him and being claimed.

Love gave way to its darker echo, lust, and the two men embraced it fully. Jim pulled Blair against him and tumbled the two of them to the mattress, limbs entwined and bodies rubbing frantically. Blair bit his way across Jim's chest before sucking on each hard little nipple, feeling the other man's groans reverberate through his own body. Jim opened his senses up as fully as he was able without risk of an overload, and arched his body upward against the input.

Touch. Blair's body everywhere on his, fingers, lips, tongue, teeth, skin-to-skin, hard, soft, supple. Stroking, licking, sucking, biting. The fine hairs on his lover's body as Jim's tongue did its own exploring.

Taste. Blair's sweetness, salt, bitter from medication, the slick of saliva as it joined his in a kiss. A hint of earthiness from wine that lingered on Blair's tongue.

Smell. Musk and sweat, more salt, aloe, pine, heat. Faint bittersweet, wine from dinner. Pheromones and a hint of semen.

Sound. Groans, breathy whispers, whimpers, slick on slick, sucking, licking...louder moans, a growl--from him? Heartbeats, two of them, racing with abandonment.

Sight. Blue eyes meeting his, generous lips--pink, with hints of darker inside, flashing white teeth, dark hairs covering tanned, flushed skin, brown nipples peaked with excitement.

Jim catalogued all these and more in a heartbeat, storing the information away for later. His cock reacted to all the stimuli, and he arched harder against Blair, desperate to relieve the pressure. His Guide backed away and ran a soothing hand down his body.

"Take it easy, lover..."

"Want you," Jim moaned, burying his face in Blair's chest, tongue seeking out the small nubs of flesh he knew were there.

"Ahhh....oh, yeah..."

'Found them!' Jim thought triumphantly, then began tonguing them, alternating with suckling. He could feel each increase in the rigidity of the tissue as Blair's nipples swelled and hardened, and Jim lost himself in the sensations against his tongue. A loud moan of pleasure brought him back from his mini-zone-out.

He moved down Blair's body, kissing and sucking each inch of flesh, feeling his way with his tongue and his fingers, allowing scent to guide him.

The pungent scent of pre-ejaculate reached him and Jim licked the engorged crown, reveling in the taste. It was heady: rich and dark, salt and bitter, and he longed for more. A long lick up and down the swollen, weeping cock elicited loud gasps and groans from his partner, and Jim smiled briefly against the over-heated flesh before taking it entirely into his mouth.

"Oh, god, Jim....oh, *shit*...ohohohyesyesyesYES!" Blair practically screamed the last word as his body arched into Jim's hungry mouth, and he released his seed in hot spurts.

Jim swallowed the offering, sucking on Blair until he'd gotten every drop, then licking gently to clean him up. He crawled back up to cradle Blair in his arms. "You okay, baby?"

"More than okay," came the weak reply. "If I were any more relaxed I'd be dead. God, Jim, that was fantastic...shit, my body is still in hyperdrive..."

Jim smiled against Blair's shoulder; the younger man was right--he could feel the small aftershocks of orgasm sparking through Blair's body as he held him.

A gentle hand reached down to cup him, stroking him with light touches, and Jim groaned, suddenly aware of the pounding need for release. "What about you?"

"I want you."

"Then I'm yours, lover." Blair paused, then continued in a low, throaty voice, "Fuck me, make love to me, make us one. I want to feel you inside me, Jim...feel you coming inside me."

"Oh, god. Roll onto your side, Chief." The words were hoarse, and the hands that helped him over shook slightly.

Blair heard the rustling noises as Jim groped for the lube, then felt a large warm hand softly caressing his rear. It moved in slow, lazy circles that grew smaller and smaller, until just one finger was sliding up and down the crease between his cheeks. He shuddered at the almost-but-not-quite tickling sensation as one finger began probing, gently rubbing against the opening there.

Warm lips touched his shoulder at the same time a cool finger pressed against him. Blair relaxed his body and pushed backward, drawing the finger into him. He groaned at the sensation...it'd been so *long*. Behind him Jim made a noise in his throat that could have been a groan, but wasn't quite.

Those same lips moved up to caress his neck, and Jim's voice, low and raspy, whispered in his ear, "You're so tight, Blair...I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't, man. Ah...yeah...just like...that..." Blair moved his hips as Jim's finger began thrusting slowly in and out of him, twisting and rotating, opening him up.

The first finger was withdrawn, and two replaced it, cool and slick with gel. Blair moaned as Jim began moving the fingers within him, stretching the taut muscle. It hurt...just a bit, but it felt good, too. He thrust back toward Jim, wanting more.

The fingers moved faster, shifting and turning within him, and the lips on his neck were driving him crazy. His cock was hardening again, and he felt like all points on his body fed straight into his groin. He was-- "Oh! Oh, *yeah*, man, oh god, Jim...just like that, lover..."

Jim shuddered as the ripples of pleasure that ran through Blair echoed through him. He opened up his tactile sense and felt for that small bump again, delighted in the sudden stiffening of Blair's body as his fingers found the prostate and rubbed over it. "Like that, do you?" he breathed into his lover's ear.

"....yeah...oh, yes...oh, Jim..."

He had to have him now. Before he exploded with wanting. Jim drew his fingers from Blair's body, and rubbed his hands over the warm skin of his cheeks. "Ready, baby?"

"Give it to me, lover." The voice was throaty, raw, needing. Jim shivered as the words flowed over him and he reached for Blair, squeezing his ass, spreading the cheeks then pushing them back together, falling into a rhythm. Blair moaned and pushed backward. Jim spread them again and held Blair open, trailing a single finger down the crevice there to rub against the loosened hole before placing the head of his cock there.

"Relax, Chief..."

Cool, hot, hard. Blair forced the tension from his body, and felt the head of Jim's cock pressing against him, pushing past the tight ring of muscle. "Ohmigod." The groan was pulled from Blair's throat as Jim slowly pushed into him. He breathed in and centered himself, relaxing further. Jim's hand came around and began stroking his hard cock, soothing him. He continued to thrust forward slowly, easing in a bit at a time and giving Blair time to adjust in between. Eventually he was all the way inside his lover, his balls nestled against Blair's ass.

"God, baby, you feel so good...so hot, so tight...I'm gonna love you, take you...you're mine..." Jim whispered the words in Blair's ear, delighting in the shiver that ran up and down his Guide's body.

"Yes...do it. Do it, Jim...fuck me...please...make love to me..." Blair's voice resonated in the darkness, a rough whisper that was more growl than not.

Jim responded by moving slowly, pulling himself out then easing back in. Blair wiggled, then thrust himself backward, taking all of Jim in, in one smooth motion.

"Faster, lover. Do it faster!"

"Oh, yeah, baby..."

"Ohmigod...oh, god, I love it...do it...do me...oh, yeah..."

Blair kept up the litany of words, encouraging and urging his lover; pushing him faster and harder.

Jim groaned at the sensations flooding him, and bit down on Blair's neck, the scent of sex and Blair all around him, filling him, creating a burning hunger that had to be appeased. Blair groaned at the feel of teeth digging into his skin, and he tightened his muscles reflexively.

Jim growled and increased the speed of his thrusts as well as the speed of his hand on Blair's cock. He could feel the younger man's body beginning to tense, and opened up his hearing; listened to the blood moving faster through veins, flowing toward the already straining, engorged organ...other fluids beginning to move, a rush as everything flowed toward one central point.

Then Blair was tightening around him and yelling his name, and there was warmth on his hand from the seed that spilled forth. Jim groaned at the feeling of muscles tightening on him, drawing him further in. He clenched his teeth and drove himself in, harder and faster, as Blair pushed back against him.

The tight channel clutched him then, and held him while he released his seed deep into his lover, giving the essence of himself. For long moments Jim held that position, thrust to the hilt inside Blair. Then he relaxed, and drew Blair back tightly against himself, kissing the side of his neck over and over, nearly sobbing in his ecstasy, hearing his sobs echoed in Blair's as they found each other completely, finally, after so many years parted.

Jim recovered his voice first. "God, Blair...you okay, baby?"

"Mmmm...fine. Oh that was good, man. So good..."

The bigger man eased himself out, then shifted Blair onto his back and leaned over him, lips gently caressing in the lightest of kisses. "I love you."

"Love you too, Jim." Blair snuggled against Jim, seeking the other man's heat as his own body cooled down. "Mmmm. Ah..." The last sound was more a sigh than anything, but Jim heard it.

"You sure you're okay?" He tilted Blair's face up towards his. "Blair?"

"I'm *fine*, lover. Just a little tender...a little achy. It's been awhile."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm. Oh, that's nice," Blair nearly purred. Jim was stroking his forehead, gently brushing the damp curls away. Over and over, soft repetitive caresses. He leaned in closer and placed a kiss on the cool forehead, then pulled away. Blair clutched at him. "Where're you going?"

"To get us a washcloth. We sleep like this they'll never pry us apart."

"What's make you so sure I'd want to be pried apart?"

Jim chuckled, and the sound floated back to Blair as his partner went downstairs.

The next thing he was aware of was a warm, damp cloth moving over him, and Blair opened his eyes to see Jim wiping him off. He smiled sleepily and opened his arms to his lover when Jim set the cloth aside.

"Missed you," he whispered, as the older man climbed into bed.

"I wasn't gone for long," Jim smiled.

"Didn't have to be." Blair yawned.

"Go to sleep, Chief." Soft touches down his arm as Jim's fingers slid up and down, soothing, caressing. "I'll be here in the morning."

"So will I..."

Cradled in each other's arms then, they slept.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Sunday, 5/18

The sun shining through shades he'd forgotten to close woke him, and Jim Ellison cursed once more the heightened senses that picked up everything, denying him even the small luxury of sleeping in.

Even asleep his body catalogued and reacted to the different outside stimuli: heat as the sun rose--both in the room, and from the rays themselves, the increase in light as the beams traveled across the room, even the smell of the room--daylight smelled different, maybe from the heat. It all combined to wake him up and he didn't want to be awake just yet.

The clock read 7:03a.m., and Jim groaned silently. The smaller man beside him slept bonelessly, only his steady heartbeat and slow, even respirations keeping Jim from thinking he was dead.

He rolled slowly onto his side to prop himself up and watch Blair sleep. What a ride last night had been! Even without the added emotional attachment, the sex had been great; the combined package was nearly overwhelming. 'How did I ever manage life without him?', he wondered, reaching to brush a lock of hair back. 'Maybe that's why I never felt whole, complete. I was waiting for the other half of myself.'

The need to touch Blair--to confirm that he really was there next to him--overwhelmed him and Jim skimmed a hand down the length of the lean body beside him.

Blair's breathing pattern shifted slightly and he stretched, arching into Jim's hand.

"Good morning," he said, stretching again.

"'Morning, Chief." Jim watched the play of sinuous muscle beneath skin, and longed to taste him again.

"You're looking at me like I'm breakfast," Blair said breathlessly as the heat from Jim's eyes transferred itself to his body.

"Can't think of anything I'd rather have," Jim growled as he leaned over and began nipping at the side of Blair's neck.

The smaller man moaned and arched, offering his throat up, hissing in pleasure when Jim paused to suck on the Adam's apple bobbing there. "Jim...oh, man...Christ, yes, lover..." Blair wiggled beneath the large arm holding him, and Jim shifted his attention, moving lower toward nipples that were budding with excitement.

This time there was no drawn out foreplay or teasing. Jim lubed his fingers and sought out the small opening, stretching it gently even as he laved Blair's nipples with his tongue and teased with gentle bites.

Blair writhed beneath him, pushing his chest up against the mouth that was suckling him, pushing his ass down on the fingers that were fucking in and out of him. He shuddered in a combination of mindless pleasure--his brain was nearly on overload here-and total frustration because Jim wasn't allowing him to do any touching of his own.

"Jim!"

"What, baby?" the bigger man gasped, feeling Blair tighten around his fingers.

"I'm gonna...come...if you don't hurry...you'll miss it..."

Gentle hands rolled him onto his side and spread him open, exposing him to the slick, hard cock that probed at his asshole. Blair sucked a breath in as the swollen organ began pushing into him--he was really tender from last night.

Jim stopped. "You okay?"

Blair nodded, a short, tight motion. "Just a little sore. No! Don't stop, man," he panted when it looked like Jim was going to do just that. "God, don't leave me like this...please, Jim...fuck me, lover. I need to feel you..."

"I don't want to hurt you..."

Blair pushed backward slightly. "You're *not*, man. I'm just a little sore. Do it, lover. Give it to me."

"Yes...oh, yeah, baby..." Jim resumed his pushing motion and was rewarded by Blair's body opening around him. He gasped as the heat engulfed him and closed his eyes to better savor the sensation. All around him...tight, hot...moist...the gentle throbbing of Blair's body as the blood flowed back and forth like a gentle massage on his engorged, sensitive penis.

He was brought out of his zone-out by an impatient thrust back against him. "*Do* something, man...don't just lie there..."

"Sorry, babe...I lost it for a minute...god, you feel so *good*, Blair...I want to bury myself in you and stay there forever..." He began a gentle thrusting, almost an undulation, as he talked.

Blair leaned back against him, sighing in pleasure as Jim throbbed inside him, moved inside him... Soft lips caressed the side of his neck and he shifted his head sideways, allowing Jim room to kiss him. He shivered when long fingers trailed across his aching cock, gently caressing the weeping tip, spreading the moisture around. "Yes...yes, Jim..."

"You're mine, Blair." Jim began moving a little faster inside him.

"Oh, yeah."

"Say it. Say you're mine."

"I'm yours, lover. I belong to you, body, heart and soul." Blair shivered. "Tell me."

"Oh, god, yes...I'm yours. You have power over me no one has ever had..." Jim stroked Blair faster, listening to gauge how close he was to climax. "I love you so much, baby...you're everything to me..."

"God, Jim..." Blair closed his eyes as they rocked together faster and faster, the hand on his cock speeding him toward mindless oblivion.

"Mine. Forever." Jim bit down on Blair's neck and his lover screamed and exploded all over his hand.

Jim slipped over the edge when Blair's muscles spasmed and clenched him. He felt a fireball burst in his body, sending liquid warmth speeding through him, culminating in a hot creamy release he pumped into Blair.

They sagged against each other, both still shuddering from the mind-blowing orgasms. After a few minutes Blair shifted and rolled, sighing in disappointment as Jim's cock slipped from his body. He gazed down at Jim, smiling at the still-dazed look on his lover's face.

"So, you were saying about breakfast?""

Jim groaned. "You want me to move after *that*?"

"A shower would be good."

"Have some mercy here, Chief. I'm dead. Didn't you notice?"

Blair ran a questing hand down Jim's body, noting with amusement that his partner's cock apparently didn't think he was dead. "Doesn't look like a serious condition," he replied mischievously, petting Jim's twitching penis.

Jim glanced down in amazement when he felt a stirring against his leg, and saw that Blair was semi-erect. "You have *got* to be kidding, Sandburg! You can't be ready to go again."

"The flesh is weak, man. I've got months--years, decades, whatever--to make up for."

"I don't think I can, babe. *It* might think so," Jim nodded toward his own anatomy, "but I'm not so sure about that. I think reality hasn't caught up yet."

"Man, I was doing myself a couple of times a day, at least, these last few months. Hey, it was the only way I could keep from jumping your bones," he added defensively when Jim arched a brow at him.

"I know you were--and it was a constant source of frustration for me, since I didn't have any reason to think you'd be interested."

Blair stared at him in shocked surprise for a minute. "You mean you'd been fantasizing about *me*?"

"Yeah. And it didn't help matters to be able to smell you every time you came."

Blair shuddered. "God--we were so close for so long."

He stared up at Jim and the older man leaned to kiss him, noting with some amusement that Blair had given up on his now-flaccid penis, and was instead stroking his own rapidly swelling organ. "Want some help with that?" he offered, reaching a hand out.

"Sure--why not? Help a friend out," Blair whispered softly as Jim's mouth closed over his own and a large warm hand brushed his away and took over caressing his cock.

It didn't take long. Jim stroked Blair's cock with one hand and his body with the other, kissing him deeply all the while. He felt Blair's temperature and heart rate surge and plunged his tongue deep into the younger man's mouth, imitating intercourse. 'Tongue-fucking,' Blair thought hazily before he stiffened against Jim, thrusting hard into the encircling hand, coming in weak spurts.

Jim petted him and caressed him for a minute, soothing the still-straining body. Blair slowly relaxed, and Jim questioned, "Better, baby?", kissing the now-sweaty brow.

"Yeah." Blair sighed deeply. "Man, what a night--what a day." He closed his eyes. "Can I take a nap?"

"You know--it's only eight in the morning."

"Yeah, but I've been up for a while." Smokey-blue eyes opened to grab his and Jim groaned as he got the pun.

"Clown school, right?" he leaned in for a kiss.

"First in my class, man." Blair stretched, yawning, then curled in on himself with a low groan of pain. "Ow..."

"You okay?" Jim leaned over him, eyes anxious. "Blair?"

"Just a minute, man." He breathed through his nose for a minute, body tense. "Guess that last one was a little much," he tried to joke.

Jim's expression was stern. "I told you it was too much, too soon."

"I don't care," Blair replied, cautiously uncurling his body. "It was worth it. All of it. And I'd do it again in a minute. See? I'm better now."

"Hmph." Jim didn't look convinced.

"Listen, I said I'd tell you if it hurt--and I will. It didn't hurt while we were making love...just afterward. I *know* that can't count..."

"Sandburg..."

"Lighten up, Jim. I'm better enough to do this, okay? My body wants it...wants you. I figure *I* should know best how I feel, right?"

Jim sighed. "I'd like to say yes--"

"Jim!" There was a note of warning in Blair's voice.

"Fine. Yes."

"Thanks, man. Now, where were we? Oh, yeah. I guess if you won't let me nap we should go shower."

"Showering together is definitely something we should *not* do right now." Jim wasn't happy about dismissing Blair's pain, but if the man wouldn't talk about it there wasn't much he could do.

"Coward."

"Damn straight. *My* body is older than yours--it needs a recovery period."

"Your virtue is safe with me, lover. I couldn't do anything at the moment if I had to."

"Hit the showers, Sandburg. I'm gonna make some coffee." He shook his head at the pleading eyes. "We have plenty of time to shower together later, babe."

"Fine." Blair pouted for a minute, then got out of bed. He grimaced slightly as he walked across to the stairs. Jim caught the brief facial movement and frowned.

"What's wrong? Your stomach still bothering you?"

"No, that's fine, now. But don't ask me to sit on anything harder than the couch for a day or so."

Jim just grinned in smug satisfaction.

* * *

The rest of the day was a wash after that. Neither man felt like doing much of anything, so they lazed around on the couch exchanging casual caresses and kisses, just enjoying the time together.

They made love once more, in the mid-afternoon, then took a nap afterward when Jim claimed he *had* to get some rest if he was going to keep up. Blair took a nap because--regardless of the paces he insisted on putting it through--his body *was* still healing and he had worn it out.

They went out for dinner, Jim having decided that he was about cooked-out, and Blair not really in the mood. He told Jim he would pick back up with the cooking in the morning, but if Jim wanted dinner it was either order in or go out.

They returned to the loft, both in a good mood, happy from good food and each other's company. Blair was still feeling pleasantly stunned after their walk along the quay after dinner, when Jim had taken his hand and entwined their fingers, not caring who might notice. He'd asked Jim about it, and the bigger man replied that he was intending to live up to the condition as much as possible--he wasn't ashamed of his feelings for Blair; he loved Blair, and he wanted the whole world to know about it--although, he added, maybe not the whole world all at once.

The light on the answering machine was blinking when they walked through the door and Blair activated it while Jim locked up for the night.

"Hey, Blair, it's Michael. Gotta know if you're comin' back to work, pal. I'm drowning here, and Dr. H has scheduled a meeting for eleven a.m. tomorrow. Call me and let me know what's up. Thanks, man."

Blair could feel Jim's eyes on him as he turned around slowly. "I have to go back to work, Jim. There's no reason for me not to --it's been a week. I have an appointment with Dr. Chou tomorrow at eight and I'm sure he'll clear me." He stood there watching his friend, feeling uneasy as the silence grew.

"I wish you could understand why this is so hard for me," Jim said at last.

"Why don't you explain it to me?"

"I don't know if I can."

"Try," Blair said gently, reaching for Jim's hand. "I'm starting to see that this is a real issue for you--for us--that we have to work through." He guided Jim to the couch, and settled himself in between Jim's legs, pressing his back against the hard chest.

"I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

Jim's hands tightened on his, clutching. "I don't know. Of being... It's my fault you were hurt--my fault you died..." He broke off, his voice choked with tears. "I can't let you go, because you might not come back...not because you don't want to, but because someone stops you."

"Someone like Sethos?" Blair asked quietly, stroking the arms that were clenched around him, bruisingly tight.

"Yes..."

"Jim." Blair shifted in the embrace, turning to sit on his knees, facing Jim. "Look at me, big guy. I can't promise that nothing will ever happen to me. You know better than that. But you *can't* take on responsibility for the actions of men that lived hundreds of years ago. You can't."

"They were me--I was them. Whatever. I have to--*I* was at fault."

"No. Listen, lover. It wasn't *you*. Your soul has lived other lives, been other men...but you are *you*. You're no more Geoffrey, or Ian, or Joshua than I am. You have shared memories, but those lives don't overlap. You aren't responsible for something that one of them did. What you *are* responsible for, what's important, is that your soul learned the lesson it needed to. To love--and admit to that love--no matter the circumstances or consequences. *We*, us in this life, are our *own* people, Jim. We have lives that are not only separate from, but have nothing to do with, all those others."

"Then how do I get past this fear? How do I deal with this? I can't walk around shadowing you all the time, much as I'd like to." Jim's eyes were dark and serious, and Blair smiled encouragingly at him.

"We deal with this like we dealt with the control issue for your sentinel abilities. Slowly, one step at a time. Even if it means you shadow me for a little while." Blair leaned down and kissed Jim, a gentle, soft pressure on his lips. "I love you, James Ellison--and I'll do whatever it takes to get you through this. But you need to learn that you can't hold yourself responsible for the actions of others--even if we're talking past lives. Those are still different people. There is such a thing as taking too *much* of the guilt, man."

Jim pulled Blair tight against him. "You've always been my Guide, haven't you?"

"Huh? Ow, hey...ease up a bit, man. I've always been your Guide?"

Jim relaxed his grip somewhat. "Yeah--in the other lives, too."

"I don't know about all of them...but I was kind of as the incarnation of Ky. Hell, I don't know, Jim. Maybe 'guide' isn't the right word for it, for then. But my soul was wiser. Probably still is," he teased, grinning at his lover.

"Smartass."

"You keep saying that," Blair leaned in for a kiss. "Have we covered everything? Do we need to talk some more, or are you doing better with this?"

"I'm doing better. As long as you understand that *I* feel a need to protect you...and watch over you. That goes with the Protector thing you hung on me."

"Yeah, but you tend to make a bigger issue out of things than is necessary. There's protecting...and there's smothering. More of the former, less of the latter, please."

Jim was silent for a minute, then his arms tightened around Blair again. "I'm gonna go to the university with you tomorrow, Blair. I know I can't hover forever, but you'll have to deal with it for now, until I'm more comfortable with this."

"I can do that, man." Blair pulled back slightly and licked his lips seductively. "Now, I think there's something better we can do with our mouths then talk."

And he proceeded to show Jim what that was.

* * *

Monday, 5/19

Jim sat in the chair across from his partner, enjoying his occasional shift-and-wiggle motion with a smirk. Blair glanced up and caught the expression before he had a chance to change it, and said in a low voice only Jim's ears could hear,

"Just wait until the doctor clears me for everything."

The underlying promise in those words sent a tendril of heat snaking through his body and it was Jim's turn to shift uncomfortably as his cock hardened. Blair grinned at him.

"Blair Sandburg." The receptionist called his name and Blair stood up.

"Gonna go with me?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yeah! You've been an active participant so far...why stop now?"

Jim smiled at the teasing tone in his mate's voice and got to his feet, surreptitiously adjusting himself in his pants.

* * *

"Everything looks good, Blair. The incision healed nicely, and the scar tissue is minimal. How've you been feeling?"

"Pretty good. I still get tired easily and the scar aches sometimes, but otherwise I feel pretty good."

"No pain going up or down the stairs or during intercourse?"

"No." Blair's head jerked up, shock on his face. "How'd you--"

"Know?" the doctor finished for him, smiling. "Just a hunch. The two of you look a lot happier than you did a week ago. I hope you're taking it easy."

"We are," Jim interjected.

"Um, doc, how long 'til I can...you know, participate on both ends?"

Jim closed his eyes briefly, trying to push down the amusement that was threatening to break free. Apparently his lover intended to make him 'pay' as soon as possible...

"I recommend you wait another week, just to be sure the muscles are well healed and up to the strain, but that's just a recommendation, of course. You know best what your body can handle."

Jim nearly choked. Judging from the expression in his partner's eyes, he'd be on the receiving end tonight.

"How are you doing otherwise? Do you need a refill for the pain medication? I won't refill the Percocet of course, but the other--"

"No, thanks. I haven't taken any of it for several days now."

"Nothing at all?"

Blair shook his head. "I hate putting drugs in my body, man. At least, I hate using the synthesized forms. I've got some teas at home I've been drinking to help...but I haven't taken anything OTC or prescription since like Wednesday or Thursday, I think."

"Well, that's good, as long as you don't need anything. Anything else? Questions?"

"One," Blair began, his eyes serious. "It is okay for me to go back to work, right?"

"What sort of work do you do?"

"I've been working on an exhibit at Rainier. I'm in charge of the planning and set up."

Dr. Chou regarded his patient. "As long as you don't do any heavy lifting--you're still somewhat restricted for that--and you stop when you get tired, no, there's no reason you can't go back."

Blair shifted his gaze to Jim and the older man nodded cautiously. "Okay, thanks. That's all I had."

"Did you have any questions, Detective?"

Jim shook his head. "Nope--that last one cleared it all for me."

"All right then. You have my number if any problems come up, otherwise, that's it."

"No more visits back?"

"Not unless you need to for some reason, Blair. You're healing nicely. Take it easy for another week and you'll be back to normal."

"He was never *normal*, doc," Jim began, then stopped when Blair flipped him off behind the doctor's back. He grinned at his lover, a 'promises, promises' smile.

Dr. Chou left the room smiling and shaking his head.

Jim turned to Blair, who was pulling his shirt on. "What time is your meeting?"

"Eleven. I need to get over there and dig through my mail and e-mail messages, so we better get going."

* * *

It turned out to be a long day. Jim got them to the University by nine, and Blair spent the next hour and a half digging through two weeks worth of mail--electronic and otherwise.

Michael had left him detailed notes on everything that had gone on with the exhibit--meetings, changes, plans--and Blair spent the last half hour before the meeting reading through them.

As it turned out, it was a good thing that the detective had accompanied his partner. Dr. Hathaway told Jim that Simon would be calling him, but that he had requested Ellison personally to oversee the security for the opening night bash.

"Why me?"

"Because you're good at what you do, Detective. Had I listened to Blair sooner--or just listened better--a lot of this might never have happened. Including your injury," the doctor nodded toward Blair. "I'd like it very much if you would agree."

Jim and Blair exchanged looks, then Jim shrugged. "Might as well--I'd be there anyway, since Blair's going."

"Outstanding." Dr. Hathaway rubbed his hands together with enthusiasm. Michael caught Blair's eye and raised a brow, causing the other man to grin. They launched into the actual meeting then, covering everything from the exhibit itself to security measures, to media coverage and guests.

Blair was given a copy of the guest list, invitations having been issued the week he was in the hospital. Jim moved to stand behind him so he could read over his shoulder and found himself wincing. It was just as bad as he remembered. Mayor Kowoski. Governor Adams. State Senators Bingham and Shelby. U.S. Senator Josephs. Dean Verastique. University President Samuels. 'Shit, half the 'who's who of Cascade and Washington State,' he thought as he continued reading. There were a couple of other local politicians, as well as lesser-ranked U personnel...the police commissioner... He sighed and Blair gave him a sympathetic smile.

They wrapped up the meeting two hours later, winding down with discussion about caterers.

Jim didn't even let Blair go back to his office. He took him by the arm and led him to the truck, then drove them to Romano's, a favorite Italian place of theirs. Blair frowned as he pulled into the parking lot.

"What's wrong, Chief?"

"I was hoping we'd go home--I'm in the mood for something else."

"Like what? They were advertising ziti with sausage as the special on TV last night, and I know you like that."

"I'm thinking of a different kind of sausage."

Jim looked over at Blair, at the heat in his eyes and the bulge in his jeans. "I'm *never* going to be able to keep up with you, babe."

"Sure you are. Or you can give it your best shot, anyway."

"I have--three times yesterday and twice this morning, if I recall correctly... How can you have anything left?" Jim shut the engine off and looked at his mate.

"I dunno, man. But I'm hot for you--for the way you make me feel." He licked his lips suggestively.

Jim sighed as his body twitched. "Man, it's like a Pavlovian response, isn't it? My reaction to you."

Blair's answer was a grin, followed by a hot kiss. Jim gasped when Blair released him. "Okay, Sandburg...you're gonna have to cork it for now. I'm hungry and you need to eat. *Especially* if you want to go back to your office today."

The younger man sighed, then adjusted himself in his jeans before exiting the truck. "Spoilsport."

"Just wait 'til you're my age. You'll understand."

"Yeah, and you're *so* much older, man," Blair rolled his eyes. "That is like such a *poor* excuse. Get another one, lover. You're doing just fine."

* * *

Monday evening, 5/19

As it turned out, neither one took advantage of the promises lavished during the day--they were both worn out by the time they got home.

Simon called Jim's cell phone shortly after they finished lunch, so before they returned to the university they went downtown to talk to him about the security detail.

It seemed to take forever to hammer out all the details, and still Jim wasn't satisfied. He chose Brown to assist him, since technically he was still on leave, and Simon gave him the task of picking the actual bodies to make up the detail. By the time they left at four-thirty Blair was drooping. Jim tried to talk him out of returning to his office, but he insisted he had paperwork he had to get, as well as a couple of notebooks. It was seven p.m. before they got back to the loft. Blair took a shower and went to bed; he was sound asleep by the time Jim finished his shower ten minutes later.

Jim smiled at the sight of his lover sprawled out on *their* bed, sound asleep with a smile on his lips. He kissed Blair tenderly on the head, spooned up behind him, pulled the covers up and went to sleep.

* * *

Thursday, 5/22

Blair rolled over when the insistent pressure against his bladder wouldn't go away. He climbed sleepily out of bed, groaning when he saw that it was just 5:14a.m. God, he hated waking up before the alarm went off. Jim had argued against setting an alarm--technically Blair was still on medical leave, though he'd gone in to the university for at least a few hours each day this week.

By the time he padded back from the bathroom he was wide awake, and looking speculatively out the window. There were faint pink streaks across the eastern sky heralding dawn. Jim was lying on his stomach, a pillow squished beneath him, legs splayed open. Blair sucked in his breath at the beauty of the man in the early morning light. Broad shoulders that tapered into a beautiful muscular back, ending in a narrow waist. The whole torso sat on the most gorgeous, sculptured butt he'd ever seen. Add to that thighs and legs...

He switched off the alarm and climbed back into bed. It was cool in the loft and his body had chilled a little while standing there looking at Jim. The heat his Sentinel was throwing felt good, and Blair cuddled up next to him. 'I'll wake him up slowly...make it worth getting up early for.' Laughing inwardly at his own joke, the young man pressed himself up against the large warm body and started placing kisses along those broad shoulders, slowly working his way downward.

Jim woke up when Blair was somewhere around his thighs. He'd been having the most erotic dream...there had been lips and fingers all over him, gently caressing him, rousing him unbelievably. He didn't want to wake up but was being pulled inexorably in that direction. He realized with a gasp that the dream was in fact reality when he felt the raspy-soft brush of Blair's tongue touch the curve of his ass. He reached a hand back and brushed against long curls.

"Blair...what're you doing?" he managed, as the tongue stroked down his heated skin again.

Looking up from his ministrations Blair mumbled, "I'd think that would be obvious." A smirk followed, before he bent his head back to his task.

Jim tensed briefly when he felt the tongue teasing along the cleft between his cheeks, barely dipping in.

Blair looked up, a question forming. "You okay with this?" he pulled back from Jim, one hand continuing to rub circles on the warm skin.

Jim nodded in answer and relaxed his body, spreading his legs further apart in invitation. He moaned quietly when he felt warm hands spread his cheeks apart, and a single moist finger rubbed gently over the little pucker.

"Beautiful..."

"Oh, god, baby..." he whispered, hands clenching at the sheets. "Please..."

Blair lowered his head and took a moment just to breathe in the musky scent of Jim's body. He pressed a kiss to the heated flesh of each cheek, then murmured against the sensitive skin, "You smell so good...so sexy..."

Jim shivered at the touch of warm breath against his sensitized body, holding himself ready for Blair's touch. Then Blair was dipping his head to taste Jim in earnest.

It was electrifying, that first brush of hot and wet across the sensitive nerves. Jim jumped and Blair grasped him firmly by the hips, holding him tightly to the bed. The tongue moved up and down, caressing him, teasing him. His lover drew wet circles around his hole with his tongue, first larger, then getting smaller before moving up and down again. Then he flattened his tongue and began taking slow, sweeping licks up and down, moving over the anus repeatedly.

Jim moaned, unable to form actual words, just incoherent sounds. He arched his back and pushed his ass upward toward Blair, begging without words, asking for everything. When he thought he might die from the sheer pleasure of it, because it couldn't get any better, Blair swirled his tongue across the opening and circled the ring of muscle before pushing at it with the tip of his tongue.

The sounds coming from Jim now were growls and he was alternately thrusting his ass up at Blair and grinding his aching erection into the mattress below him.

"God, baby, please...fuck me...take me...I want you inside me...oh, yeah...yeah...oh, god, Blair...shit, yeah...oh, man..."

Blair licked and tongued Jim for a minute longer, coating the small opening thoroughly with saliva. He eased a finger into his lover then, smiling as the growls turned to groans and gasps.

"You want this, sweetheart? Want me to give it to you? Take my cock and fuck you?"

"Yeah, oh, yeah, baby. Give it to me..." Jim pushed back against his finger shuddering at the hot words and the sensations.

Blair withdrew the one finger and inserted two, wiggling them around to stretch Jim open and also feeling for the prostate. He rubbed his fingers across it and Jim jumped like he'd been shot.

"Oh, Christ! Oh, yeah, baby...again, please...more..." Blair obliged, and Jim moaned louder. A third finger, and Jim was pushing back against him, gasping for more.

"You ready for me, lover?" Blair withdrew his fingers and reached for the lube.

"God, am I ready. Oh, baby, give it to me...Yes!" The last word ended on a hiss as Blair began pushing into him.

He had to stop partway in, not because of Jim--his lover seemed to be taking him easily--but because of his own body's reaction to this. It had been *so* *long* since he'd had sex with another man--as the top. Jim was tight, so he eased his way in, feeling the hot channel squeezing him. God, it felt so good, he could come this way without any other action. But judging from his lover's motions, pushing up against him, that wouldn't be accepted well. Blair took a deep breath and pushed the rest of the way in, Jim meeting him along the way.

He began stroking in and out, falling into an easy rhythm. He reached his arms up under Jim's, cradling him almost, and entwining their fingers. This gave him good access to kiss Jim's neck and shoulders--he couldn't quite reach Jim's mouth because of the disparity in their height, but they'd work on that. For now, all he cared about was pumping in and out of that beautiful, hot ass.

His body trembled from the force of holding back his release, but he didn't want to come until he felt Jim begin. Blair increased the speed of his thrusts, grinding Jim down against the bed, upping the pressure against the other man's erection. Jim shouted his name and began shuddering. Blair felt the large body tighten around him, the muscles inside Jim clutching at his cock, drawing on it. He gave a loud wordless cry and erupted inside his lover.

"Morning, lover," he managed when he got his breath back.

"'Morning, yourself." Jim shifted his shoulders, and Blair bent and kissed them before rolling off him.

"God, what a wake-up!"

"Liked that, did you?"

"Mmhmm. Wow." Jim rolled his head on the pillow to look at Blair. His partner had his eyes closed, a grin on his face. "Looks like you enjoyed it too, babe."

"Oh, yeah. I haven't topped in a while. S'not the same with women..."

"I know, Chief." Jim ran a hand down Blair's chest before pulling the smaller man to him. "I love you."

"I love you. Wait a minute..." Blair wiggled out of his grasp and ran for the bathroom. Jim listened in amusement to the sounds of his lover brushing his teeth. He reappeared a moment later and crawled back into bed, taking up the same position he'd been in. "So, where were we?"

Jim shook his head. "What was that all about?"

"Well, let's think about where my mouth was recently...and I'd really like to kiss you good morning. Okay?"

"Oh, yeah," Jim managed before Blair claimed his mouth.

It was a lot later before they climbed out of bed that morning.

* * *

Sunday 5/25

Blair was as close to being a nervous wreck as Jim had ever seen him. He'd gotten worse during the week, the closer they got to "E" Day, as Jim was calling it now.

Right now he was pacing the floor of his office, muttering, as Jim, Michael and Jarvis watched in amusement. In his hand was a checklist with so many scribbles and scrawls Jim was having trouble believing he could still read it.

Jim watched his lover, but he was also watching Blair's *former* lover as well, as discretely as he could manage. Apparently he wasn't being as discrete as he thought though, since Jarvis kept shooting him his own looks. He finally couldn't stand it any longer and asked Jarvis if he wanted to go with him and get them all some coffee from the machine in the hall. Blair had run out a few hours ago before and no one had made the trip yet to get any more.

"Sure, Jim. Michael--coffee or coke?"

Michael looked up from his own notepad. "Coke, hon. Thanks."

"Chief?"

"Huh? Oh, um, coke I guess, please. Black."

Jim bit his lip to keep from laughing. The day Blair Sandburg drank coke was the day he'd start smoking. And obviously he was getting his beverages mixed up. "You mean coffee, black, right?"

Blair looked up distractedly. "Yeah, that's what I said. Coffee, black."

"Right. C'mon, Jarvis."

* * *

Jarvis leaned against the wall next to the coffee machine. "So, what can I do for you, Jim?"

'What am I doing? What can I gain by asking this guy this?' "I was just wondering--" Shit. "What you and Blair were to each other. I know you were lovers--Blair told me that."

"But you want details, right?" Jarvis shifted, leaning back further against the wall. Jim took up the same pose next to him.

"Well, not details. Just...a little more information."

"Why?"

"I guess I'm trying to figure him out. In some ways he's an open book for me. In other areas he's...not closed, exactly, just--"

"Harder to read."

"Exactly."

Jarvis sighed. "We really did meet during our freshman year here. And we became lovers the year after that." Jarvis tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. "Man, I was crazy in love with that boy for forever. Or it seemed like it, anyway. 'Course, it's hard to tell sometimes when you're eighteen if it's love or lust. It was probably a combination of the two. Anyway, Blair had never had a male lover. He'd kissed guys before and I think he told me once he'd jerked off with a cousin behind his uncle's barn. But that was it."

"You were his first, then."

"Yeah. Not that I was *that* much more experienced; I'd had one real affair, before college. Everything else was like Blair--hit and miss, here and there. Difference between me and Blair is that he likes women too, and he had quite a bit of *general* experience, from that. But he told me once, early on, that he knew there was more out there and he wanted to experience as much as he could. Blair is one of those true bisexuals: he accepts a person based on who they are, not what their gender is."

"So why didn't you two stay together?"

"It wasn't right--not for him. I mean, he loved me in his own way, but he wasn't *in love* with me. That's the difference, you know. Most people love lots of people. Not everyone gets to be in love with someone."

"And you were in love with Blair?"

"For a while. Man, you should have seen him then." Jarvis looked at Jim, and the older man got the feeling he was being assessed. "He was smaller than he is now--Blair's filled out over the years. He's the same height, I guess, but he was a skinny little thing then. Hair was a lot shorter too. I'm not sure when he started to grow it...but it wasn't that first year. And he was so *serious*."

"Blair? Sandburg?"

"Yeah, hard to believe, isn't it? Not serious in a bad way, but man, the kid was a *nerd*. But a *cute* nerd." Jarvis laughed. "I took one look and fell in love with him. Took him a while longer to decide that he wanted a relationship with me that went beyond just being friends, or kissing. We'd make out for hours, then he'd go back to his dorm, and I'd go to bed and dream about him..."

Jim watched Jarvis carefully. "So when did he decide he was bisexual?"

Jarvis shrugged. "I think he always knew it, he just hadn't had much of a chance to act on it. Have you ever met Naomi? Blair's mom?"

Jim closed his eyes and nodded. "Yeah--a couple of times now."

"Well, Naomi moved them around a lot. So here's young Blair, on the threshold of discovering his sexuality, only his mom never stayed put in one place long enough for him to make friends, much less anything else. I think I was his first serious affair because he was here long enough for us to become friends first."

"We were friends first," Jim said quietly. 'There's a message in here somewhere, I know there is.' "I love him, Jarvis. I'm *in* love with him. What I feel for him is so strong it scares me sometimes."

"Just go with it, man. Blair won't hurt you--he'd never hurt you. You mean too much to him."

"Did he hurt you?"

"Not intentionally. I wasn't right for him and he knew it, but it took him a while to work up the courage to tell me."

"How'd you guys stay friends?"

Another shrug. "I don't know. It just seemed important, so we did. But I'll tell you, his friendship meant more to me even than sleeping with him did--more than most people's friendship does."

"Why's that?"

"'Cause he only calls a few people *friend*. Most are just acquaintances, or people he dates. Listen to him sometime. He'll talk about 'this guy I know', or 'this girl I've been seeing', or 'an acquaintance of mine'...but rarely does he say friend. When Blair gives his heart, he gives it completely."

Jim searched the other man's face, one more question he wanted to ask burning in his mind. He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn't come out. Jarvis seemed to understand though what he needed to know and responded quietly, "He never told me he loved me, Jim."

Jim felt himself sag against the wall in relief. "Thank you."

They returned to the office then, coffee and cokes in hand, and a little more peace in Jim's heart.

* * *

"It's after eight, Chief. Let's call it a night."

"But--"

"You're not going to get anything else done as long as you're tired--and I know that everything is under control anyway."

"How can you know that? *I* don't even know that."

"Sure you do." Jim stepped behind his lover and gently massaged the tight muscles in his shoulder. "Babe, you feel like you've got wood under your skin. C'mon, let's go home."

Michael and Jarvis had left several hours ago, leaving Blair to finish up his 'last minute' list and Jim to watch him in equal parts amusement, love and concern.

Concern that he was pushing himself too hard, too fast. He'd seen a couple of winces that he was sure Blair thought he'd hidden. He probably would've, from the average person. But since he'd come 'online' a year and a half ago, Jim's life focused on *noticing*. He couldn't help it, it just happened. And he was noticing that his lover had had enough, even if he wasn't ready to admit it yet.

"Come on, Sandburg," he finally growled at him. "You're exhausted, you're hurting and you need to eat something besides junk."

Blair looked up at him from the papers spread over his desk. "What'd you have in mind, big guy?"

'God, does he have any idea how gorgeous he is with those glasses sliding down his nose? And his hair falling down like that...' Jim cleared his throat. "Get you home, get you some soup, get you in the tub..."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Would there be anything else to the 'Jim Ellison treatment for tired and tense grad students'?"

Jim crossed his arms across his chest as Blair began gathering up his papers. "Such as?"

"Oh, I don't know. Full body massage maybe?"

"Interior or exterior?"

"Wha--oh, interior, of course." Blair grinned, a wicked light gleaming in his eyes. Jim felt his body leap in reaction.

"Only if we get home, professor. Come on, lets get a move on."

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

* * *

_'_I could get used to this treatment,' Blair thought drowsily, a couple of hours later. Jim had taken him home, fed him, showered him (complete with a blowjob that had shorted out his brain), combed out his hair, then made love to him until they both melted.

"You asleep, Jim?"

"Almost," his lover mumbled. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I love you."

"Oh. I love you too, Blair."

There was a pause, then Blair asked, "Did you find out everything you wanted to know from Jarvis?"

Jim grew very still next to him. "How'd you know I...How'd you know about that?"

"We guides have our ways."

"Seriously."

"I am serious, man. You started giving him these *looks* right after they got there this afternoon. I figured it was only a matter of time. So, did you find out what you wanted to know?"

Jim rolled toward him and propped himself on an elbow. Blair raised a finger and traced his lips, and Jim kissed it briefly. "I don't know, babe. I don't know what I wanted to know...just to find out more about you, I guess. You're like an enigma to me sometimes. Almost like you--"

"Like I what?"

Jim sighed. "You're gonna laugh."

"I'll never laugh at anything you tell me--unless I know you're kidding around. Tell me." Blair rolled himself to face Jim.

"I sometimes feel like you're one of those faeries that you read about in fantasy novels. Like you sprang from the mist, fully grown, all-knowing. It's eerie, sometimes."

Blair was silent for a long moment, considering what Jim was telling him. "Why do you think that?"

"I don't know. You just seem so...*old*...for someone so young. No," Jim held a silencing finger to Blair's lips. "I know you're not *young*, you're not a child--I'm not trying to say you are. I'm more aware than most people how grown you are. But love, you come across sometimes as someone who's lived over and over again."

"I have. You know that."

"You've told me about the lives we've shared and a few other snippets from your regressions...but Blair, you--" Jim broke off, frustrated.

"*I'm* still *me*, still young...and definitely not a faerie." He snorted. "I'd never have pegged you as the fantasy novel type, Jim."

Jim smiled, although his eyes remained serious. "I haven't read any since probably junior high, but when I was a kid, once in a while I'd read one." He traced a finger down Blair's cheek. "I love you, you know. I was basically just looking for more information on you. You aren't the easiest person to get to know--"

"And you are?"

"--and Naomi didn't get very far in telling me stories that one time. I just wanted to know a little more about what makes Blair Sandburg who he is."

Blair moved his head so his mouth was just a fraction of an inch from Jim's, teasing. "Ask me anything you want, lover. I'll tell you..."

"God, Blair...Are you a sorcerer? 'Cause you've put a spell on me for sure."

Blair leaned in just a little more, until his lips were brushing Jim's. "Not a sorcerer...just someone who loves you very much..."

Their lips met and melded as they confirmed yet again what they felt for one another, and sleep was something that was forgotten for the moment.

* * *

**Chapter 12**

Monday, 5/26

"You look gorgeous, Chief." Jim surveyed his partner, eyes running up and down the lean form, as he struggled to get his tie done. Blair's tux fit perfectly, molding to his body and tight in all the right places. Blair had chosen a sapphire blue for tie and cummerbund, and they seemed to add to the sparkle and color of his eyes. He looked good enough to eat.

"Not lookin' too bad yourself, old man." Blair leaned back on the bed, trying to keep a grip on his libido. Jim's powerful body--a sight at any time--tucked into a tux that only emphasized his lines was a thing to behold. Jim had chosen classic black, stating that if he was going to dress up he might as well stick to the 'traditional' theme. That's when Blair had dubbed him 'old man'.

"I'll show you 'old man'," Jim growled as he stepped closer to the bed, intending to haul Blair up for a kiss.

Instead, Blair slid forward until his head was level with Jim's groin. He nuzzled around the rapidly heating flesh, noting with satisfaction that things were rising nicely. He breathed warm moist air onto the front of Jim's pants and smiled when his lover groaned, thrusting forward. He repeated the action once more, then suddenly found large hands tangled in his hair, pulling him upward for a hot, wet kiss.

Jim didn't release him until he'd caressed every square millimeter of Blair's mouth. He pulled away, leaving the younger man gasping for breath, his lips swollen and red.

"Jesus! Where'd that come from?"

"From this, you little tease," Jim gestured toward his erection. "We don't have time to do anything, and you know it."

Blair smiled provocatively, a 'come-hither' expression in his eyes. "Maybe we can work something in. Sex is good for nerves, y'know."

"You're nervous?"

The younger man sat back, running an impatient hand through his curls. Jim resumed his battle with his bow-tie. "Yeah. I don't know why--I know everything's taken care of. Still--I can't help it."

"You want everything to be perfect."

"Yeah."

"It will be, Chief. Trust me."

"I hope so." Blair glanced at the clock. "It's after seven, Jim. We need to get going."

"I know. You ready?"

"As I'll ever be. Let's go."

Jim gave up on the tie and tucked it into his pocket. He'd fix it when they got to the university.

* * *

The building was ablaze in light, a beacon in the darkness. Jim checked his watch as he pulled into the faculty parking lot. Quarter 'til eight. The exhibit gala opening was set for nine p.m. He shook his head as he pondered why people liked to do things like this so late. At nine o'clock at night, the only place he wanted to be was at home, lying on the couch or the bed with Blair either wiggling on top of him or sprawled beneath him, writhing in pleasure. He shook those thoughts off as his cock throbbed uncomfortably within the tight pants. Damn Sandburg for getting him hot and bothered like that. Well, he'd exact an appropriate revenge later.

He followed his Guide into the building, noting that the guards were stationed at the doors once again. 'Is the university ever going to get back to normal as long as this thing's here?'

Simon, Dr. Hathaway, Mitchell Parker, Jarvis and Michael were standing in a group looking at the Aten exhibit. He could smell and hear the caterers setting up the hors d'oeuvres and drinks in the conferencing area next door; smell the musty odor coming from the sarcophagus and its accoutrements; hear the faint sounds of the policemen stationed outside as guards. Blair touched his arm and he tuned back into reality.

Dr. Hathaway was going to give a short speech to the honored guests in the large conference room, before actually opening the exhibit to them. He, Blair, Michael and Mitchell Parker would circulate through the room to answer questions. Simon nodded to Jim and they left the room briefly to confer with the other police and detectives on security detail. Brown, Rafe, Jensen and Milson would be near each of the entrances, with uniformed guards circulating through the room. Brown rattled off the list, and Jim nodded approvingly--everything seemed to be covered.

At a quarter before nine the guests began arriving, and Jim heard the sudden spike in Blair's heartbeat. His respirations increased as well and the bigger man headed for his lover, concerned that he was going to start hyperventilating. Blair was standing near the door that led to the basement--locked for the moment so no one wandered where they shouldn't go--and looked up gratefully when Jim appeared and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You okay, Chief?"

A quick nod. "Just nervous. I don't know why, man, don't even ask. I'll just be glad when this night is over--although after everything that's happened, this seems almost anticlimactic, you know?"

"I do." Jim lowered his head slightly to whisper, "I'm here for you, baby. I love you." He grasped Blair's chin in one hand and held him for a gentle kiss, not caring if anyone--or everyone--saw him. When he released Blair the younger man's eyes were sparkling again.

"I love you too, Jim. Thanks."

"Heads up, Chief. It's time." Jim had been listening to the other side with his hearing extended, and knew that Dr. Hathaway was getting ready to make his speech. Blair nodded and slipped through the exhibit to the door hidden behind the partition. The one that had nearly cost him his life.

Jim sighed as he watched him go, eyes heating from the movement of Blair's ass and hips. A noise and the scent of cigars behind him alerted him to Simon's presence, and he turned to greet his captain.

"You really are in love with him, aren't you?"

Jim's eyes widened in surprise at the question. Simon had pretty much left that topic alone in the two weeks since he'd dropped the ball. "Yeah. I am. He makes me feel things, Simon--"

The older man held a hand up. "Please. I'm sure I don't want to know."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Well, I wasn't going to share *those* with you--he just makes me feel happy. Loved."

"You look happy. I'm still trying to figure out what happened to the sullen Jim Ellison I knew a few years ago. I mean, you were making progress before, coming out of your shell after Carolyn...but you've really turned around in the last year or so."

"It's Blair, sir. He's the difference."

Simon shook his head. "Just try to keep it professional, okay?"

"Simon!"

The older man smiled. "Hey, I've gotta say *something*--the two of you throw off enough heat to start a bonfire."

Jim smiled in return, then turned as a noise caught his attention. Clapping. The speech was nearly over. "They're gonna be coming in a minute, sir."

The big man sighed. "I can't wait to have this over with."

"Me, too."

* * *

Blair settled into a chair at the very back of the conference room next to Michael and Jarvis. He smiled at his friends, then smiled more broadly as he thought about his *other* friend, waiting for him in the next room. Michael nudged him gently and whispered, "Get that shit-eatin' grin off your face, old son."

Blair grinned even harder.

He tuned the speech out, preferring to daydream about Jim and the twists and turns they'd undertaken in the last couple of months. 'It's funny--it all started with this. Who knows where we'd be without this exhibit?' He knew Jim had spent the last couple of months cursing the exhibit every time it was brought up in any way, but he suspected the detective had never looked at it from that angle. *Would* they have found each other, eventually, without the triggers? Going further with that line of thought: Would the triggers still have activated eventually, without the outside interference, like the costumes? Would he have had the dreams eventually, or were they *only* because of the triggers? He mused, 'I wonder how many people go through life never knowing they lived other lives because nothing ever triggers anything for them'; then made a mental note to ask Jim sometime about doing regression hypnosis with him.

Michael nudged him again and Blair noted with a start that he'd 'zoned', all through the speech. People were standing up and clapping, so he rose with them. He and Michael slipped away through the door again, before the doors were opened for the crowd to enter the Great Exhibit Hall.

* * *

He found Jim a little while later chatting with Jarvis, quietly surveying the area, senses obviously open and extended.

"Hey, lover," he greeted softly, knowing the sensitive hearing would catch it. "Hey, Jarvis."

"Hi, baby. How's it going?" Jim reached out and touched Blair's shoulder, just a soft quick caress.

"Fine. Everyone seems pretty impressed. There's been a crowd around the mummy since we opened the doors. I don't think Dr. H has stopped talking about it."

Jarvis grinned at that. "Well, you know that dead guys are always fascinating."

Blair snorted. "*I* personally don't think so." He cast a glance around the room. "Guess I better go mingle again." He squeezed Jim's arm lightly, then headed off into the crowd.

Jim watched him go with a thoughtful expression on his face. He'd been at half mast all evening, thanks to tight pants and Blair's teasing earlier, but that light touch on his arm just about did him in.

"Will you excuse me?" He turned to Jarvis, trying to be polite. Something made him figure that caveman manners wouldn't be good in this setting.

"Go get him, Jim." The younger man smiled at him, and Jim found himself very, very glad that the affair between Blair and Jarvis was a long time ago.

* * *

He caught up with Blair about ten minutes later, but it was another ten beyond that before his Guide was able to break away from the people and their questions. He took him by the arm and led him toward the far side of the hall to the door behind the Culloden exhibit. Extending sentinel senses to assure that no one was in the small hallway behind the door, Jim pushed it open and gently shoved Blair through.

"What's up, man?" Blair frowned a little. Jim had indicated it was urgent that he talk to him--but this was weird.

"I am," was the growled reply before Jim shoved him up against the wall, pining his wrists at his side and taking his mouth in a kiss that should have incinerated the building around them.

At some point Blair became muzzily aware of the fact that Jim had let go of his wrists, and was now keeping him against the wall simply by pressing against him with his body. Jim planted his hands firmly on the wall behind him and rubbed his large hot body slowly up and down his.

He wrapped his arms around Jim's neck and moaned into the mouth that was ravishing his. He'd never in his life been kissed so thoroughly--it was more like being tongue-fucked, he decided, as Jim alternated between sucking on his tongue and running his own around the inside of Blair's mouth, and making deep penetrating thrusts.

A hard thigh wedged its way between his legs, and Jim's knee began stroking against the erection that was now straining Blair's trousers. Jim brought his hands down at the same time and began cupping and kneading Blair's asscheeks, increasing the friction. And oh, god, it felt *good*! He rubbed himself shamelessly against Jim, desire surging up in a tidal wave.

Jim moved his mouth from Blair's and kissed a path across his jawbone to the sensitive skin behind his ear, nibbling and licking there. Blair groaned low in his throat and moved his head to give better access. When Jim swirled his tongue around the outer edge of his ear then sucked an earlobe in, Blair gave a barely stifled shriek.

The sound was what it took to break Jim's daze. "That's a good spot for you, isn't it?" he asked, breathing hard.

Blair nodded, unable to pull enough oxygen into his lungs to form an actual answer. He panted for several more moments before asking, "What the *hell* brought that on?"

"You did, Chief. You got me started earlier and I can't get thoughts of you out of my head."

"Man, you gotta cool it down! I have to go out there now like this--" Blair gestured to his pants, which were tented out.

Jim focused on Blair's crotch and could see the movements where his cock throbbed within its confinement. He felt his own cock pulse in response, and the heat in his body spiked again. He reached a hand down and rubbed the hard bulge in Blair's pants, taking care to keep his eyes locked on Blair's.

The younger man shivered as those long fingers trailed over his hard-on, squeezing gently, rubbing and pressing. God, he was going to die before this night was over, he knew it. A man could only stand just so much torture...

"Jim," he moaned, "Man, you're gonna have me comin' in my pants in a minute..."

Jim leaned in for another kiss, this one stealing Blair's breath away as well. The large hand continued to press and knead his erection and Blair sighed against the mouth that was devouring his, slipping his own hands down to cup Jim's ass and pull him closer. When Jim released him, he swayed dizzily for a minute before regaining his equilibrium.

"Can't have that now...But soon," the big man whispered to him.

He nodded, still dazed.

"Take the long way around, going back," Jim suggested, eyes still smoldering with love and unsatisfied lust.

Blair nodded again, moving away slowly, carefully.

* * *

"What time is this thing supposed to wrap up?" The voice spoke near his ear startling him, and Blair jumped.

"Hey, Simon. It was supposed to have been over at midnight," he stated morosely. "Guess everyone was having a good time."

Simon checked his watch. "Guess so. Did you know it's nearly one in the morning?"

Blair yawned. "Mmhmm. *Way* past my bedtime, man."

"I thought you stayed up all 'til all hours, Sandburg."

"Used to, man. Probably will again, someday. I've been sleeping a lot more lately." 'I've *been* up for hours,' Blair thought with yet another twinge from his groin.

"Your body's still healing."

"Yeah, that's what the doctor said. Still," his face cracked with another yawn, "I'd like to go home and crawl into bed."

Simon nodded. "Why don't you check with Dr. Hathaway? It's not like most of the guests are still in here anyway--they're in feeding their faces."

That was true enough. A smile spread across Blair's face, and Simon grinned at him. "Go on, Sandburg. And when you see Jim, tell him I said he could go home, too."

"Thanks, Simon." Blair gave him another grin, then moved off into the vast room.

It *was* late, and a lot of their guests had gone home. There weren't that many left and most of those were, as Simon had pointed out, feeding their faces. Blair found Dr. Hathaway and explained that he was feeling pretty exhausted and would like to go home and go to bed. Dr. Hathaway was happy to let him go; the kick-off to the exhibit had been so successful Blair figured that the scholar would probably be in a good mood for a month. Now, to find Jim...

His lover was stationed near the door leading to the conference area, studying the Culloden exhibit. In particular, studying the bayonet.

It had been seized by the police as evidence, but once it became clear that Sarina hadn't survived the shoot-out, and there were no other people to question, the lethal weapon had been released back into university custody. Michael had told Jim privately that he'd cleaned it himself and replaced it in the tableau.

"Hey, lover," Blair moved up alongside Jim and leaned against him.

"Hey, Chief. How you doin'?"

"Tired, man. I got permission for us to get out of here."

Jim turned toward him. "Really?"

"Yep. From my boss and your boss, both. Cool, huh?"

"Yeah. Ready to go then?"

"I need to get some stuff from my office first, but after that, yeah."

"Let's go then. I've got some things in mind for you before I let you go to bed."

"You mean sleep, right? It sounds like you're planning on taking me to bed."

"Yep, I meant sleep."

They left the exhibit through the small side door, and Jim followed Blair as he navigated several turns and twists to the main hallway.

The halls of the anthropology building, outside of the GEH, were dark and quiet, deserted. Jim pulled Blair into an embrace and kissed him deeply as soon as they were out of sight of the exhibit.

"God, I missed you tonight," he muttered as he ran his hands up and down Blair's body, lingering over his buttocks, smoothing up and down his back.

"Jim, we were in the same room all night," Blair gasped breathlessly. When had Jim acquired an extra set of hands? He rubbed his body hard against his Sentinel's and felt the older man's groan reverberate through his body.

"Yeah, and I couldn't touch you--not like this, anyway." He grasped two handfuls of curls and tilted Blair's head, searing the younger man's mouth with the heat of his. Lips met lips, then sucked and bit, a tongue flicking out to taste the beads of sweat that gathered there. Jim opened Blair's mouth with his own, his tongue searching relentlessly for hidden sweetness. He sucked on Blair's tongue, drawing it into his own mouth, biting down gently before releasing his lover.

Blair groaned as he submitted to the power and sensuality of that kiss. The sheer carnality of it was overwhelming, and he felt like his world was spinning out of control. He clutched Jim's shoulders and molded his body to the bigger one, hoping to stay above the wave that was threatening to engulf him.

Jim tore his mouth away from Blair's, a groan rising from his throat. "God, baby, I want you..."

"I want you too, lover...hang on a few minutes? Let me get my stuff and we'll go." Blair smiled raggedly at Jim, felt the hot eyes burning into him.

"Okay," Jim replied reluctantly, releasing his partner.

Blair didn't get very far from him before he was pulled back against the hard body, Jim rubbing his cock against Blair's ass.

"Can't do it, baby...can't wait. I have to have you..." A large hand snaked around to Blair's chest and undid a shirt button, worming its way inside the tux blouse. Jim combed his fingers through silky hair and felt something soft, yet hard brush against a fingertip. He rubbed it, and was rewarded by a low, throaty moan from Blair. The nipple responded to his caresses and budded beneath his fingers, inciting him to pinches and rough touches. Blair shuddered in his arms and pushed backward, rubbing his ass against the hard length throbbing behind him.

"My...office..." the younger man managed, gasping when he felt another shirt button being popped open. Jim's teeth were on his neck, and if he didn't get them inside he had a feeling his lover was going to take him here, on the hallway floor.

"Yes," Jim answered tersely. He released his hold on Blair enough so his Guide could lead him quickly down the hall.

They arrived at the office, but before Blair could open the door Jim turned him and slammed him up against it, claiming his mouth in another fiery kiss. He ran his hands down Blair's sides and around the curves of his ass, then reached underneath and picked the smaller man up, pressing him back further against the door.

"Put your legs around my waist," he growled in Blair's ear. Blair moaned but complied, wrapping his legs securely around Jim's waist, his mouth seeking out the pulse point in Jim's neck at the same time. "Ahh, yeah...oh, baby, suck it..." Jim twisted his head out of the way, encouraging Blair's efforts with groans and hot words. He reached a trembling hand out to the door. "Locked?" he managed.

"N-no.." Blair gripped Jim tighter with his legs, and began stroking his tongue up and down the corded muscles in Jim's neck.

Jim growled again and pushed the door open, noting the moonlight streaming through the window at the end of the small room. Blair's desk was straight in front of him. He moved purposefully toward it and sent everything on it to the floor with one savage sweep of his hand.

Blair was too far gone to even notice, his own body temperature so high now that he *had* to get relief or spontaneously combust on the spot. He moaned when Jim set him on the desk, the hardness of the wood biting into the sensitized flesh of his ass. Hard hands and fingers were suddenly all over him, pulling at buttons and zippers, undressing him as quickly as possible. He fumbled, trying to help, then decided to just stay out of the way, other than to lift his hips so Jim could slide his pants off. A couple of quick moves and Blair was sitting naked on his desk, stroking his engorged cock and watching Jim strip his own clothing off.

Hot lips attached themselves to his again, and Blair moaned as fingers skimmed down his body, stopping to pinch roughly at his nipples before continuing their journey. "So hot, so good," Jim muttered against his neck as those lips followed the fingers. Blair grasped Jim's head and held it tight to his chest as the older man worshipped his nipples, sucking and biting them before licking to soothe the sting.

Jim knelt before the desk, staring at Blair's cock, swollen and weeping...all for him. He leaned forward and licked the pre-come off the tip, savoring the taste. Another lick, and Blair was writhing above him. Jim ran his tongue up and down the long hard length several times before taking each of Blair's balls into his mouth to suck gently. The skin felt feverishly hot, but Jim figured it was still cooler than his own internal temperature. He continued downward, spreading Blair's legs apart, hands shifting his lover so he leaned back more. His hands kneaded and rubbed the hot silky flesh of Blair's ass while his mouth continued on, licking and kissing. He nipped at the insides of Blair's thighs, smiling against the skin when Blair cried his name, fingers clutching at the hair that was too short to grip.

"Please, oh, Jim...give it to me...I need you..."

"What do you want, baby," Jim asked, sucking on a finger.

"You...I need you...inside me, please...oh, GOD!..." The last word rose on a high pitch as Jim spread him open and licked slowly. Blair felt the world around spin drunkenly as Jim caressed him with his tongue, swirling it around the puckered rosette, wetting it thoroughly. Then Jim inserted his finger, gently pushing, gaining speed. Blair gasped and pushed back against it.

Jim licked the underside of Blair's balls and blew a gust of warm air across them, watched Blair quiver at the combination of sensations, pushing toward the finger impaling him.

"That's it baby," he whispered as he worked the finger. "Push yourself down..." He removed the finger, soothing Blair with gentle strokes on his cock as he groped for the now-abandoned tux jacket and the tube he'd brought.

"Ohmigod," Blair moaned as two slick fingers entered him. "Ohmigod, you planned this..." his body arched up, trying to push the fingers in deeper. Jim stood up, thrusting the fingers slowly.

"No...just thinking ahead..." he stroked his cock, then Blair's, then his again, feeling the fire growing in waves in his body. "Tell me what you want, baby."

"I want you to put your cock in me and fuck me...wanna feel you filling my ass...oh, god, Jim...ram it in and fuck my brains out...!"

Jim stroked the gel onto his cock and positioned it at the entrance to Blair's body. Blair pulled his legs back, spreading himself wide open for Jim to see. "Now..." he breathed, and pushed the breath from his body, relaxing. Jim grasp Blair's legs and thrust forward, sliding in to the root in one stroke.

"Oooooohhhhh...." Blair exhaled again, body clenching around Jim.

"You feel good, baby...tight, hot...I wish I could stay here forever...not move, just be here inside you, forever..." Jim leaned over Blair, nuzzling at his neck, sucking the soft skin there, whispering in his ear.

Blair moaned a wordless agreement, undulating his body under Jim's, relishing the feel of the hard, heated flesh inside him. Jim began to move inside him then, a slow, easy glide in and out. He held onto Blair's legs, thumbs caressing the skin there.

"Stroke yourself for me, baby...that's it...make yourself come for me...make yourself come while I fuck you..." Jim breathed the words, his stomach clenching at the beautiful sight of his lover caressing himself while he pumped in and out of Blair's body. "Yeah...do it, baby, do yourself...that's right...I'm gonna come inside you...feel me filling you?...I want you to come..." He was picking up speed and intensity, thrusting harder now, gaining momentum. Blair's hand moved faster, and his other hand rose to his chest, rubbing at his nipples. Jim groaned at the sight and leaned down to kiss him again.

They exploded together, consumed by the flames of passion, ignited by love. Blair's body tightened around Jim with his impending orgasm, sending Jim spiraling down into an abyss of pleasure as his body spasmed inside Blair's.

Jim picked Blair up off the desk, still semi-hard inside his lover, and slid them onto the floor with Blair cradled in his lap. They held each other, rocking slowly, caressing each other. Jim rained kisses over Blair's face; Blair stroked Jim's arms, shoulders, upper back.

"I love you so much, Blair...I could tell you a thousand times a day and still not have told you enough."

"Shhh...I understand, Jim. I feel the same way." He soothed his lover with soft kisses on his lips and cheeks, forehead and head.

"You've given me yourself, and in the process given me back *myself*. I feel like I'm whole again--like I never was before you..."

"It's okay, lover...I know, I do. I love you, Jim...I love you, I love you, I love you..." Blair punctuated each phrase with a soft kiss to Jim's lips, then leaned his head down onto the hard shoulder, resting there.

They sat there holding onto each other, until the chill of the night air finally forced them apart and up, to find their clothing and go home.

* * *

Tuesday, 5/27

"Check it out, man. We made the paper!"

Jim looked up from the file he was studying--Simon had given him a couple of new cases to look through when they'd been in to the station last week--and glanced at the Cascade Press. "Of course you did, Chief. You had the media there."

"Yeah, I know. But I didn't expect to make the front page of the Entertainment and Arts section."

"How long's the exhibit going to run, anyway?"

Blair sat down at the table. "Umm...six months, I think. I don't know--I never did manage to think that far ahead. Why?"

"Just wondering when we could have the farewell party for the king."

Blair grinned at his lover. Earlier this morning, after they'd both had a chance to sleep and come down from their emotion and sex high of last night, he'd shared with him his thoughts about how the exhibit had brought them together.

"I'll check my notes, man. Let you know."

"You do that."

Jim went back to his file, and Blair turned his attention to reading the article, turning the page to see the photo spread.

"Oh, *man*..." he breathed, not quite believing he was seeing what his brain said he was looking at.

Jim looked up at the tone. "What?"

"Take a look!"

He looked. Right there on page two of the Entertainment and Arts section for the Cascade Press was a black and white photo of him and Blair, holding hands, with Jim leaning to whisper in Blair's ear.

"I don't even remember any photographers *near* us last night," Blair was saying, pacing the floor now. "Man, this sucks."

"Why?"

That brought Blair up short. "What?"

"I asked, 'why'. As in 'why does this suck'?"

"Well, you know. 'Cause like now the whole world knows about us. Or at least most of Cascade does."

"It's okay, babe."

"It is?" Blair ran a hand through his hair and narrowed his eyes. "Okay, who are you...and where's *my* Jim? C'mon, man, this is serious."

"It may have repercussions, yeah, but I don't care, Blair. I. Don't. Care. Got it? I want the world to know I'm in love with a wonderful man--with *you*."

"Oh, man. Are you sure, Jim?"

"Positive. You and me, together forever, babe. This is the only way."

"Wow." Blair paused next to Jim's chair. "I love you."

Time froze for a long moment as Blair's smoky-blue gaze met and held Jim's clear blue one. Thousands of words, feelings, thoughts were exchanged between the two in that brief span; past and present met and melded, and the future hung before them. Jim reached out and grasped Blair's hand.

"I love you now and I'll love you forever, Blair. Time and again."

Finis

 

 


End file.
